


Just Give Me A Reason

by Elise_Davidson



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: If Luke/Chris isn't your thing DON'T READ, M/M, Slashfic, Slow Burn, The Chris/Luke fic that no one asked for, This is exactly what it says on the tin: slow burn Luke/Chris, This only started when Luke and Chris beat each other up and I read WAY too much into it, rare!pair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 15:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 81,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8215505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Davidson/pseuds/Elise_Davidson
Summary: Luke and Chris find they have more in common then they thought.  Their friendship evolves, and suddenly, all at once, it's not really a friendship anymore.  It's something else.Eventually, at the end of the day, they'll both have to face Emily Gilmore.See Author's Notes for more.





	1. Right From The Start

**Author's Note:**

> If I haven't made this clear, this is a slow-burn SLASH fic. End-game is that Luke and Chris end up together. It's been stuck in my head ever since I saw that fist fight between the two.
> 
> Summary explanation: I just kinda feel like Luke AND Chris both (for very different reasons) fear Emily Gilmore, as should we all.
> 
> And last note...I kinda feel a little sad that I have to reiterate this one more time: THIS IS A SLASH FIC THAT IS NOT CANON-COMPLIANT. I will be breaking up Luke/Lorelai again, and I will be using a trope the story regularly uses to do so.
> 
> All of the above being said, if this is NOT something you want to read, please don't flame or burn me out of spite :'-( Please? Just this once; that's all I ask.
> 
> If you don't like that sort of thing, please, hit the back button now? For my sake and yours.

Chris cradled the top of his drink with his fingers, the din of the bar little more than white noise in the background.  It was only his second drink, but most of the ice had melted.  He had come to the bar more for the low-key sort of wordless racket that bars were good for than anything else.

Gigi had, at Sherry’s insistence and according to their agreed-upon compromise, shipped off to boarding school that morning (excited, albeit tearfully) and the apartment had just felt… _quiet_.  Not to mention clean.  And both of those together just left him with an oddly hollow ache that the TV or radio couldn’t fill.

So Chris had tried driving with no real destination in mind until he had felt it was too morose to aimlessly wander around in his car like a heartbroken teenager (well, a father suffering lightly from empty nest syndrome maybe).  At that point, he had pulled off for the first bar that didn’t look like a murder had been recently committed.  He had been pleasantly surprised though at the cleanliness, friendly atmosphere, and lack of pushy conversation from the bartender.

He contemplated his watered-down drink, and had started to think that going home would probably be best when the bartender plunked a cold beer in front of him.

Chris looked up with polite confusion, schooled from too many years around high society and cotillion friends.  “I didn’t order—“ he started with a shake of his head, but the bartender pointed over his shoulder.  He turned, already preparing a speech about being flattered until he saw who it was.  He swore sharply under his breath, his head dropping as he picked up his drink and the beer before making his way over to a table.

“Of all the gin joints,” Chris muttered and slid the beer over.

Luke snorted derisively, but his casual stance seemed…off, looser somehow.  “You could just take the damn beer and say thank you.”

“Come to gloat about it then?” Chris asked bluntly without touching the beer.  “Come on, man; I don’t need this.  She chose you; isn’t that enough?”

Luke stared at his beer with an edgy, considering look, an undercurrent of self-deprecation and bitterness behind it.  “She sure did, didn’t she.”  He finished the third of his beer left in the bottle he held and took the one he had originally bought for Chris.  “You didn’t have to come over here, you know.  Just thought it would be funny to buy a beer for a guy whose ass I kicked.”

Chris scoffed, trying to pin down why the cadence of Luke’s words seemed off.  “That fight was a draw.”  He observed Luke take down a quarter of the beer.  “And just how many of those have you had?”

Luke scowled at him.  “You’re not my babysitter; I’m a grown man.”  He knocked the empty bottle over as he gestured with the beer he had just started.  “And seriously, pal, I haven’t had enough.”

Chris had never considered himself particularly adept at reading between the lines, especially with someone as prickly as Luke, but there was definitely something there beneath the surface, both angry and defeated.  He couldn’t quite put his finger on it though, other than the fact that man obviously wasn’t all together sober.

Luke blinked at him owlishly.  “I thought you rich people were polite…or something; you’ve _met_ Emily.”  He seemed frustrated, knocking his beer to the table harder than he meant to, hands flailing wildly.  “You grew _up_ with Emily; what the hell was I thinking?”  He snagged the beer again and drew on it.  “So you’re not even going to ask _why_ I’m in some random bar, buying _you_ a drink?”

_And clearly two sheets in_ , Chris thought.  “I’ll admit, I’m…confused,” he offered and tossed back what was left of his drink.  “No trouble in paradise, I hope?”

Luke’s eyes shifted and glittered dangerously, though the haze was still on his reddened face.  “If you knew what happened and still said that, you’re way more of an asshole than even _I_ gave you credit for.”

Chris put his empty glass down, trying to lean back and move in a non-threatening way as the final piece clicked.  “Look, Luke…last I heard, you guys were fine and Rory had some interviews lined up in New York, I swear.  You know Lore; she doesn’t actually _tell_ me things!  And Rory’s so busy, she barely has time to call once a week.”

Luke didn’t relax, though some of the fight left his face.  “Come on,” he said abruptly, shrugging on a battered green army jacket as he teetered dangerously against his chair.  He flung an arm out in warning when Chris moved to support him.  “I’m _fine_ ,” he bit out.  “You coming or staying?”  He finished the beer, and though Chris knew he’d never say it, Luke seemed to _want_ company for once.

Chris got up, pulling on his overcoat before grabbing Luke’s shoulder tightly with one hand.  The man didn’t turn, but the muscles and tendons shifted beneath his fingers defensively.  “She left you, didn’t she.”  It wasn’t meant to be a question.

Luke tensed further and ducked his head more to his shoulder and the floor than Chris.  “Yeah.  She did.”

_Well_ , Chris thought as they settled their tabs and Luke agreed to the offer of a ride, _that explained that_.

“We’re taking my truck though.”  Luke handed Chris a set of keys.  “We’re going to my place.  You ever heard of Founder’s Day Punch?”

Chris had, if only in passing, and he was pretty sure his liver groaned.

XXXX

The drive to Luke’s was long, awkward, and filled with stilted attempts (mostly on Chris’s part) at conversation and pointed counters (Luke) at deferring them.

Chris shoved the truck into neutral and jammed the e-brake.  He clenched one hand around the steering wheel and waved his other hand in Luke’s general direction.  “Okay, you wanted company and you got it.  I can only assume it’s got something to do with both of us being screwed by—“ He let his words cut out because Luke had shot him a dirty glare.  “Okay, poor choice of words, but you know what I’m trying to say.”

Luke rolled his eyes and jerked his door open.  “Would you just get out of the damn truck?”

Chris declined to comment that Luke’s belligerence was nearly ruined by the fact that Luke all but spilled into the road, flat on his back and against the curb.  Chris leaned against the passenger side of the truck, watching in unveiled amusement as Luke struggled to his feet and fell back at least twice (possibly more; Chris wouldn’t taunt the drunk man with a specific number).

“You gonna accept a hand up or not?” Chris asked, outstretching his arm.

Luke shot paranoid glances up and down the street before grabbing Chris’s hand so he could stand.  “This gets to no one.”

Chris shook his head bitterly.  “Who here would believe me over you?  Here’s your keys.”

It took nearly ten minutes before Chris even entered the apartment above the diner, a solo cup of what looked like fruit punch on ice in his hand.  When he sipped at it though (gingerly, since yeah, he had definitely heard stories from any and all manners of townspeople about Miss Patty’s founder’s punch), he could practically taste the flammability of the drink.

“So,” Chris said easily enough once they were seated at the kitchen table.  “Why’d you ask me here?”

Luke shrugged, as if the reason were obvious.  “We both got dumped by the same girl, in the same way, probably more than once.  We also beat each other up over said girl.  Why not?”

“So the drunk thing really works for opening those friendships.”

“I don’t have friends,” Luke muttered and swiped his lips after taking a gentler sip of the punch than he had been all night on anything else.  “I have a kid.”

Chris nodded, bouncing his fingers around the edges of the solo cup.  “Lore told me.  April, right?”

“Yeah,” Luke nodded, eyes brighter than normal at the mention of his daughter.  “She’s smart.  Maybe Rory-smart.”  He rubbed a hand over his face, pulling the baseball cap from his head and then carding a hand over the wavy, light brown hair.  “She did a damn DNA test for her science project in middle school to figure out who her dad was.”

Chris whistled low.  “That sounds…frightening.”

Luke nodded towards his cup of punch, as if giving his agreement through looks alone.  “Yeah, it was.  It was me.  Her mother didn’t tell me.”  He got up, moving restlessly.  “She didn’t even _tell_ me; if I’d _known_ I had a kid…” He turned on Chris suddenly.  “At least you _knew_ you had Rory.”

Chris tilted his head at him.  “Did I?  Lore took that kid from _everyone_ who could have cared about her or even _for_ her.  I didn’t get to be there because Lore decided that it was best for everyone to give birth and take off to god knows where and do her own thing.”

Luke looked furious at this.  “You could have found her.  You knew her, knew that she didn’t want that life for Rory.”

“You don’t think I tried?” Chris snapped, feeling tired and irritable.  “You can’t sit there and tell me that if you had known about your kid that you wouldn’t have done everything possible to make sure she was happy, that she was cared for, even if only financially.  I had to find out that Lorelai was more comfortable asking _Emily_ and _Richard_ for money to put Rory through Chilton than coming to _me_ , Rory’s _father_.”

Luke still scowled as he rose, pacing because he could see the point from two different points of view but was unwilling to compromise.  “I didn’t even _know_ about her.”

Chris stood defiantly.  “I was refused the ability to know about her at all.”

XXXX

Three rounds of Miss Patty’s punch later had them in the bathroom.  Chris was decently buzzed; it was the only reason he could think of that he hadn’t called a taxi or car to take him home.  It was also why he could let it go that he was practically reliving his fraternity days, and making sure Luke didn’t choke on his own vomit while he got rid of at least a third of what he’d drank.

In the end, Luke seemed drunk and content enough to lean against his bathtub and near the toilet, head buried into his elbows.  “This fucking sucks,” he slurred out.

Chris nodded, in what he thought looked pretty sage at this point.  “Yeah.  It does,” he agreed, not realizing that his words were equally strung together, “She…she says she wants to marry you…wants to make that family.  Then…then…she just goddamn _leaves_ ; who _does_ that?”

Luke coughed, maybe choked, into the clear space of skin he had dug his nose into.  “Lorelai does.  She knows her own heart, she knows her kid, she knows her _life_.”

Chris scoffed.  “And those left behind?”

Luke looked up.  “She’s _selfish_.  She needs to figure out what the fuck she wants, instead of settling all the time, thinking she’s got what she wants and then turning tail when she realizes it _isn’t_ what she wants.”  He burped and gagged a bit, but didn’t turn for the toilet.  “I just…I don’t get it…”

Chris sluggishly turned his head so it was resting on an arm over the lip of the bathtub and staring into Luke’s face.  “Get what?”

Blue eyes stared, suddenly clear, and then hazy again.  “I don’t get why she isn’t happy.  You can’t do it, I can’t, her parents can’t…I don’t get why she…” He started to drift.

Chris pushed his knee against Luke’s with a selfish motive, because he had often wondered that himself.  “Why she can’t what?”

Luke snored into his elbow a bit until Chris kneed him again.  “Christ, what?” he snapped.

Chris sighed; Luke was clearly done baring himself for the night.  He swayed to his feet before finding a pillow and blanket from the bed in the other room and making sure that Luke had them for the night.  He wasn’t even sure he wanted to at this point.

“Hey,” Luke murmured groggily as Chris settled the pillow behind his head.  “She doesn’t know how to be happy.  It’s not us.”

Chris only finished making sure Luke was as comfortable as he could make him before finding himself back in the kitchen of the apartment.  He settled a hand for balance on the table, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut for clarity.

Neither came, and Chris passed out in the smallest bed he could find in the tiny apartment.  The smell of the diner, alcohol, and coffee lured him to sleep.

XXXXX

Luke woke slowly, the steady throbbing of a headache already gnawing at his temple.  His neck definitely had a crick in it, and he was certain that had everything to do with the fact he had fallen asleep ( _passed out_ , his brain supplied) on the lip of his bathtub.  He could still taste a combination of founder’s punch and acid in his mouth and his stomach rolled in warning.

He groaned and scrubbed at his face with his hand.  He squinted at the floor where the remains of his cup lay next to a second empty one.  That brought on a frown because he remembered running into Chris at the bar, but not much past the man offering him a ride.

So who the hell…

Luke splashed water on his face quickly, glancing at his watch.  Still only 2AM, which gave him a little bit of time before he had to start prepping downstairs.  He exited the bathroom in search of the second drink holder, and felt his stomach drop when he saw Chris sprawled out on Jess’s old bed.

“Sh—“ He started and stopped before his curse could wake the other man.  He ran a hand through his hair, which only served to make him wonder just where the hell he’d left his hat.  Swiping it from the table and setting it down on the nightstand beside his bed, Luke quietly padded across the room and looked down where Chris lay.

The man was sleeping pretty damn hard, a quiet snore emanating from him every few breaths.  His feet hung off the end of the bed, shoes still tied and his overcoat serving as a makeshift blanket.

Luke groaned quietly to himself and though all he wanted to do was curl up in his own bed and just let Cesar open the diner, he took a few minutes to remove Chris’s shoes and cover him with the quilt from the couch.  He grumbled internally as he did so, mostly at himself for being so stupid as to get drunk enough to invite Chris back to his place like they were _friends_ or something.  They most certainly weren’t, despite the shared heartbreak.

He took no small amount of satisfaction in the fact that if he recalled correctly, Chris would definitely be feeling it in the morning.

Luke chugged a glass of water, took two aspirin, and then curled up in bed, burying his head beneath the blankets to catch a couple of hours before opening the diner.  The nothingness of sleep was preferable to the rolling of his stomach that couldn’t be completely attributed to the alcohol.

Chris snuffled in his sleep across the room.

Luke grunted and rolled over in bed.

XXXXX

Chris was pretty sure he had never felt this awful, even in his college days.  He lay in the small bed, unwilling (and maybe a little unable) to even contemplate moving.  The smells of breakfast food wafted up from the diner, and he actually choked a little trying to swallow back the nausea kicking at his throat.  He moaned and shifted under the quilt, trying to gather the willpower to at least sit up.

The quilt?  He frowned, because he had simply collapsed last night on the bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off.

Chris finally sat up, his gut lurching and his head throbbing like fifteen jackhammers had taken up residence in his skull.  Rory hadn’t been kidding when she had called founder’s day punch “a drink that even the devil couldn’t have come up with”.  He looked down to his feet, where his shoes had been removed.  On the small table beside of the bed, someone had set up a glass of water and several aspirin settled on a napkin.

It was oddly thoughtful, but then Chris supposed he never thought of Luke as particularly selfish.  It was still a nice gesture, however, and he idly wondered just _how_ , exactly, he was going to make an escape without half the town seeing him leave Luke’s.  And, not to put too fine a point on the matter, Chris wasn’t even sure why it bothered him—or if it even really bothered him.

Something unsettled was in his gut though, and he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.  He downed the water without much more thought, chasing it with the aspirin Luke had left on the table.  After a quick trip to the bathroom to splash water on his face (and steal some of the mouthwash there), he felt just human enough to think about calling a cab to at least take him back to his car.

Chris got his shoes on and threw his coat over his shoulders absently, the sheer oddity of having spent the night at _Luke’s_ crashing around in his head in time with the headache.  As such, he wasn’t really paying attention when he pulled the door open, having decided that a quick getaway would be best—just shuffle as quickly as possible through the diner and get the hell out and back home where he could shower in peace and then spend the day watching TV.

Instead, he opened the door just as Lorelai had raised a fist to knock on it.

Chris stopped abruptly.  “Lore?”

Lorelai frowned at him, clearly trying to piece it together.  “Chris?  What are you…why are you…”  She held up a hand.  “You know what, I don’t even want to know.  Have you seen Luke?”  She looked at his wrinkled clothing and his clearly hungover face.  “Okay, I am going to ask.  What the hell are you even doing here?”

Chris sighed irritably; he wasn’t really in the mood to play 20 questions with her.  Instead, he lied.  “I got too drunk at the bar last night after shipping Gigi off yesterday; Luke happened to be at the same bar, so he gave me a lift.”

Lorelai raised her eyebrows.  “A lift,” she repeated.  “To _his_ place?  Why didn’t you tell him to take you home?  Better yet, why not just call an Uber or a taxi or your own personal car or whatever.”

Chris sighed.  “I wanted the company.  He was nice enough to agree.”  He decided to completely leave out how drunk Luke had been the night before in the best interests of whatever was going on between the two of them.  A small part of him was somewhat proud of the fact Luke had finally decided to deign him somewhat worthy company at this point, and he wasn’t sure he wanted Lorelai to hone in on that.

Lorelai shrugged, though she clearly didn’t believe him.  “Well, have you seen him?”

“Not since last night; he’s not in the diner?”

“No,” Lorelai replied, biting a thumbnail anxiously.  “Are you headed back then?”

Chris nodded.  “Soon as I call a cab.  It was a pretty rough night; I could use a gallon of water and the greasiest pizza you could possibly imagine.”

Lorelai smiled, but it was fragile and didn’t quite meet her eyes.  “Well, we can go to Al’s Pancake World?  I have time, and we can catch up.”  She affectionately knuckled her fist into his shoulder.  “You can tell me about your empty nest.”

Chris chuckled even though his heart really wasn’t in it.  “You can tell me what happened between you and the diner guy.”

Lorelai’s smile faded a bit, and her eyes tightened.  “You can call him Luke, you know.”

Chris laughed again, but it was even more apparent this time that it was weak and just as brittle as Lorelai’s smile.  “Yeah, I suppose I can.”

XXXXXXXXXX


	2. You Were a Thief, You Stole My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorelai and Chris talk. Lane speculates. Luke and Lorelai fight again. And then it turns out Lorelai's not the only one who can predict snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it was brought to my attention that when Lorelai was around in the last chapter, she didn't make any pop culture references. I apologize for this, because honestly, most of my pop culture references are sci-fi related and usually have something to do with Stargate or Star Trek XD I'm hoping I rectified it in this chapter a little bit at least.

“So, was food actually on the table, or are we just going to wander around until you tell me why you got cold feet?” Chris asked when they passed Mrs. Kim’s shop the third time.  He really was pretty hungry, and though the headache had lessened somewhat due to the aspirin, he _really_ needed food.

Lorelai wrinkled her nose at him, but judging by the way the corners of her eyes crinkled, he had hit the nail on the head.  “It wasn’t _cold_ feet,” she protested, “It was… _tepid_.  Barely even chilled.  Not even _remotely_ close to a Tolstoy novel or a Julia Roberts movie.”

Chris smiled at her briefly.  “Then what happened?” he pushed gently.

Lorelai sighed in frustration.  “April’s mom is boycotting the wedding.”

He didn’t stop in his tracks, but he did miss a step.  “Oh, come on, Lore…there’s got to be more to it than that.”

She sniffed reluctantly.  “I may have called her a few choice words when she started doing the do-si-do on whether April could be in the wedding at all, or even attend.  Luke really wants her to be there, and in it.  Anna thinks it’s inappropriate.”  She rolled her eyes huffily.  “And when Anna said it would be weird since she’d _be_ there, it may or may _not_ ,” she emphasized, have let slip that traditionally, arguments about the wedding are usually between the ones…y’know…getting married?”

Chris winced.  “That old Gilmore tact shining through again, I see.”

Lorelai scoffed at him.  “She had it coming.  So, I guess I should probably also mention that _someone_ —not sure who, honest!—may have told Anna she was a _little_ bit uninvited, and then Anna stopped doing whatever square dance metaphor I was using and pulled the plug all together.”

“Not gonna lie, Lore.  I can see why Luke was upset too.”

She raised an eyebrow at him as she stopped abruptly, as if she hadn’t heard the qualifier that Chris knew she was mad as well.  “ _Luke_ is upset?  What about me?  I was trying to include April, but _no_ , Anna had to go all control-break and over-protective on a level that _Joan Crawford_ would be proud of.”

Chris bit back the retort that Lorelai probably hadn’t made it any easier.  “Well,” he went on, “What bothered her about everything besides you brandishing a wire hanger?”

“You can’t prove that happened,” Lorelai muttered, but there was color in her cheeks.  “Even though April is grown and perfectly capable of taking care of herself, Anna thinks it’s weird for _their_ child to be at the wedding at all, let alone by herself, and she wants to be there to make sure there’s no shenanigans going down.”  She rolled her eyes again.  “Because an ex at the wedding is _sure_ to be less than awkward.  And what does she think this thing’s gonna be?  An introductory course on getting wasted and losing your virginity?  For heaven’s sake, my _mother_ will be there.”

_And no doubt helping with the plans when allowed_ , Chris thought to himself.  He wasn’t proud of the part of him that wanted to see Emily Gilmore take on Anna Nardini though (at least, what he’d heard so far of her).  “Maybe April’s mom is feeling a little territorial.  Remember how much it bothered you when Rory went to Sherry’s baby shower?”

Lorelai’s eyes went cold.  “That is so beyond different by a _long_ shot; don’t do that.”

Chris wasn’t sure it was as different as Lorelai made it out to be, but knew better than to argue with an angry Gilmore, no matter which one it was.  “I really think you ought to at least try and talk it out with Luke.”  He leaned towards her with a hint of mischief.  “He was upset enough to break out Miss Patty’s punch.”

Lorelai snapped her fingers.  “That’s what I smelled; I knew it!”  She looped her arm through his.  “Come on, you need tacos.”

He was prepared to not comment further on their previous discussion, but some obligation to Luke combined with the unsettled feeling he got when he thought too closely about said obligation made him speak.  “You know, he really was pretty upset.  He’s between a rock and a hard place.”

Lorelai’s smile thinned.  “You don’t know anything about it.  Just…just stay out of it, Chris.  You seriously don’t know enough about _any_ of it to take sides, and if you’re going to take sides, it should damn well be mine.”

The unfamiliar discontent settled in his gut again, but it wasn’t because of Lorelai’s words.  Well, maybe because of the implication—if he had to pick a side, he could honestly see why Lorelai was making everything harder.  He felt a muscle tic in his throat and jaw, but he only nodded.

“You’re right, I don’t.”

Lorelai seemed satisfied at his admission, and she started pulling him toward food.

He thought what bothered him the most at that point was the rumbling in his stomach wasn’t entirely due to hunger.

XXXXX

There was no way to salvage this day, Luke thought viciously as he beat eggs in a bowl.  He didn’t deliberately hide in the kitchen often, but he really wasn’t up to rehashing the argument with Lorelai yet.

Especially not when he felt like he’d been hit by a truck, not when he had found Chris still in Jess’s bed when he’d gotten up to open the diner, not when that made his chest ache and he wasn’t entirely sure _why_.

Savagely whisking the eggs at the memory of Lorelai and Chris exiting together, he wondered irritably what either one of them were saying.  He had to actively remind himself that Lorelai had chosen _him_ , even when Chris had been in her life as more than a passerby.  The jealousy felt different this time, and it only served to make his mood more volatile because he didn’t know why.

Cesar looked at the eggs first, and then raised his glance to Luke.  “Luke, man…I think the eggs are beaten.”

Luke shoved the bowl into Cesar’s hands; he needed to get out.  “I’m going for a walk.”

“So that puts me in charge, right?” Cesar asked eagerly.

“You _and_ Lane; that clear?” Luke snapped and didn’t wait for the reply as he made for the lake.  The memory of shoving Jess into it was always clear (if a little affectionate), and some part of him wished for that stress relief now, the release that came from giving a rebellious, snot-nosed punk teenager a good shove of comeuppance into the water.  He didn’t have that now though, and so he settled for glaring at the water as he sat on the bridge to try and gather his thoughts.

He wasn’t sure if he was angry that Lorelai had snagged Chris away so quickly to talk (and why the hell should it bother him other than he was an _ex_ , and Lorelai had enough problems dealing with Anna that she should understand), but at the same time, he was glad she hadn’t gone running to Emily either.  Still, he knew in the back of his head that it was likely Rory already knew about the fight and possible end.

Luke threw his cap down next to his leg.  It wasn’t even the talking, he supposed, that bothered him.  It was more how Lorelai would reiterate the situation.  He didn’t think she would necessarily play the victim, but he also knew from experience that in this particular instance, she definitely had the sympathetic side to the fight this time.

He scowled at the water.  What did she expect him to do though?  It was his wedding too by god, and he wanted his daughter there as much as Lorelai wanted Rory there.  And yeah, he genuinely thought Anna would have gotten over being so guarded of who April met and got to know, considering she was 18 now and preparing for university, so he could, arguably, see Lorelai’s point of view on that one.

And man, did he remember the call from April about universities.  Anna had all but forbidden her to go to any schools on the west coast, or even anything too far away, and was really pushing April to consider the wealth of quality schools in the New England area.

Luke smirked to himself, because he was pretty sure Anna didn’t know about the applications April had put in anyway (with Luke’s help on the application fees), but he was smart enough to let April choose her own path and leave the rest between mother and daughter.

He’d had enough practice with that when dealing with Lorelai and Rory.

The sound of shoes hitting the wooden causeway alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone.  Luke turned his head, already forming an excuse for why he and Lorelai should really continue this fight another day.

The words died, half-formed in his throat, when he saw it was Chris before changing into something else.  “What are you still doing here?”

Chris tilted an amused stare down at him.  “We drove here in your truck.  My car’s still at the bar.”

Luke groaned as he replaced his cap on his head.  “Shit, I’m sorry.  You want a lift back?”

Chris sat down beside of him, close enough that Luke almost flinched at the proximity but remained still.  “I was just gonna call a cab or a car.”

Luke waved him off bitterly.  “You saw me puke; I can drive you to your car.  Besides, taxis or “ordered cars” or whatever always smell funny, and the driver always wants to make small talk and won’t actually confirm _where_ you’re trying to go, they just keep on driving for whatever amount of time they see fit to serve the stupid fare.”

Chris shrugged, taking the rant in stride, and Luke felt the movement as much as he saw it.  “I can pay you for the gas.”

Luke snorted.  “But I’m not taking it.”  He settled a little, though he wouldn’t necessarily call it relaxed.  The tension of the past few weeks bled slowly from his frame until it left him shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip with Chris, who seemed surprised, but didn’t move away either.  That odd jealous feeling from earlier eased a bit, and he sighed heavily.  “It’s all just such a fucking mess.  And you know what the real shit of it is?”

Chris shook his head.  “No, what?”

Luke laughed, resentful and low.  “One—I thought it was really gonna work this time.”

Chris clapped narrow fingers over his shoulder.  “It still could, you know.  You don’t know that it’s over.”

“Don’t I?”

“What’s two?” Chris countered in a move that wasn’t all that subtle in order to get Luke away from the “over” talk.

Luke looked at the sky.  “It always feels like a mess with her…like, once we’re in a good place, something goes wrong, and then we’re back to re-evaluating the whole damn thing.”

Chris wondered how many more things he would have to bite back today, and found this one harder to hold off on when it was kicking so badly at his teeth to admit that it had felt that way with him and Lorelai as well.  Instead, he spouted off the advice that had usually worked with him and Lore.  “You both just need to cool off, Luke.  You’re both angry, you’re both hurting.  Once it blows over a little, you guys will work it out.”

Luke shrugged under his hand.  “We’ll see, I guess.”  Chris’s fingers tightened briefly in reassurance.  “So when you did you want to head back?”  He stood and offered a hand.

Chris took it, unsurprised by the strong grip as he got to his feet.  “Whenever’s good for you.  I’m taking the week off since Gigi just went to Europe for a visit with Sherry before boarding school.”

Luke grimaced.  “Boarding school in Europe?  Really?”

Chris bumped his shoulder against Luke’s as they walked.  “Decided long ago in the custody agreement when Sherry wanted to talk about custody at all.  I get Gigi until middle school, and then she’s only with me for the summers and New Year’s while she’s in Europe.  Sherry wouldn’t budge on it, and I wasn’t going to take a chance in court over whether or not my lawyer could convince some dude in a robe over the right to raise my child.”

The look on Luke’s face remained and he ducked his head to (poorly) hide any potential judgment.  “Still…boarding school?  Why couldn’t Gigi just go to Chilton or something?  Worked out pretty damn good for Rory.”

Chris’s stance seemed to tense a little, and Luke pulled away from him a bit in defense, because yeah, they really had beat the crap out of each other at one point.  “How easy did it go for you and April’s mom during the custody battle?” Chris pointed out, and he couldn’t hide the bitterness to his tone.  “The one Lore helped you with.”

Luke shot him a withering stare.  “She didn’t have to.  She wanted to, once I asked her.”

Chris coughed, possibly to cover a derisive snort.  “Of course she did; that’s Lore.  I read that letter too, you know.”  He angled a glance towards Luke, hazel eyes shifting and reading in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Rory when she was _really_ into what she was reading and trying to calculate everything from context to characterization to foreshadowing to whatever it was readers and writers looked at when they got lost in a book.

Luke swallowed, because he had never been the subject of scrutiny at a Rory-like-level before, and he now could see where she got it from.  At the same time, it made his chest ache—something about the pain hidden there, the history trying to escape but being held back and censored.

“You know how ugly custody suits can get,” Chris finished flatly.  “Don’t judge mine if you don’t want me to judge yours.”

Luke swallowed again, unsure why his mouth had gone dry.  “Fair enough,” he managed, and suddenly had to repress the urge to throw Chris into the lake just to get away from that omniscient gaze.

XXXXX

Lane scooped up the dirty dishes from a vacated table as Luke and Chris came back to the diner.  She watched from the window in open curiosity as they entered, spoke quietly, and Chris nodded gratefully (even from her perspective), and they went upstairs.  It was a decent amount of time—possibly thirty-three minutes—until Luke came back to start washing dishes loudly in the back of the kitchen and Chris left without further interaction (other than a cup of coffee that Lane _knew_ came from Luke’s stash upstairs).

She didn’t bother hiding her nosiness as she picked up new plates of food from Cesar.  “What’s that all about?” she asked Cesar through the small window between the front counter and the kitchen.  “Did you _see_ that?”

Cesar shrugged, though it was clear he thought it was interesting.  “You know how it is with guys, Lane...they punch each other in the face, and they’re friends for life.”

Lane frowned in skeptical thought.  “I don’t think it works that way.  Not to mention they didn’t _look_ like they wanted to kill each other.”

“Like who didn’t want to kill each other?”

Lane dropped the silverware she had been holding.  “Uh,” she stumbled for a moment, “Kirk!  Kirk and Taylor.  Yeah, old Kirk and Taylor,” she swung her arm in a false motion that she hoped look real enough to indicate familiarity, “How they’re always at it.  I know they’ve been at each other’s throats lately, but then, I saw Kirk at the sundae shop, but he wasn’t yelling and Taylor wasn’t kicking him out, so I was asking Cesar what he knew about it because I’m a busybody like my mother!” she finished in one breath with a red face, before wildly turning to Cesar, “Right, Cesar?  Cesar?” she asked to empty air, because _that traitor_.

Luke’s face didn’t seem to change though from the usual disinterest in gossip.  “Uh-huh,” he replied blithely before disappearing into the diner itself to check in with the leftover breakfast rush guests.

Lane let out a whoosh of air and quickly resumed her work, her speculation now private.  Zach was going to get an earful when she got home though.

XXXXX

Chris approached the diner cautiously, because while he couldn’t make out the words just yet, he could clearly see two people arguing by a damningly familiar Jeep.  He sighed, because he was pretty sure of whom it was, and he _really_ didn’t want to end up in the middle of that one.  He had just decided to turn when the end of a yell caught his attention.

“—with _Chris_!”  Lorelai’s voice was tight and guarded.

Chris crept closer against his better judgment, hoping his dark overcoat hid him well enough in the shadows.  He wasn’t sure why the hell _his_ name would come up; as far as he knew, Luke and Lorelai had worked the whole “father of my child” thing out ages ago.

Luke looked beyond done, as Chris got close enough to see, and when he spoke, his voice was tired and empty.  “You’re allowed to compare Anna to Mommie Dearest, but I can’t talk to Rory’s _father_?”

Chris would be lying if he said he didn’t feel some sort of pride at the fact that Luke hadn’t referred to him as some stereotypical rich boy.

Lorelai’s shoulders reared back—oh, that wasn’t good; Chris knew that stance from experience.  “Not about what’s going on with _us_.  What made you think that was even _remotely_ okay?”

“So what, Chris is off-limits?  In case you haven’t noticed, Lorelai, it’s not like I’ve got that many friends to confide in!  You want me to go to TJ?  Or Liz?  Hell, how about _Jess_ ; Rory likes him so much!  How would you like it if I went to _Anna_?”

Lorelai seemed to make a sound between frustration and rage that came out more as a heated sigh.  “You know what, every time you bring _her_ up…”

Luke’s crossed arms fell, as if he was proving a damning point.  “Yet you thought it was okay for _you_ to air out whatever’s happening between us to _your_ ex, but when _I_ talk to him, I’ve committed a transgression to end all transgressions.”

Lorelai sighed, and this time, it sounded exhausted and weary.  “Luke…I just…I can’t do this, if you’re going to keep comparing histories.  That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“You’re the one making a big fucking deal out of the fact I even _spoke_ to your ex without informing you first.”  Luke sounded final, but just as tired as Lorelai.

Lorelai gave another frustrated scoff.  “You don’t _know_ him like I do.  You’re making a friend of someone who would sooner get Emily’s advice than the next deb at the ball.”

Chris would remember it as the point where he would gallantly step in to defend his own character, or even Emily’s, but what it really ended up being was that he made an indignant sound at being sized up in that fashion.

Lorelai turned sharply and zeroed her gaze on him immediately.  “Were you _eavesdropping_?  Really?  I thought I taught you _way_ better than that,” she said harshly.

“Well, I’ll have to get Emily’s advice on that, now won’t I?” Chris asked defiantly.  “Now, if I could just get that ride home?” He directed his glance pointedly to Luke, who rolled his eyes and let his arms drop in defeat.

“Fine.  You two go have an epic Brokeback bromance together,” Lorelai shouted, but her voice was shaky in a way that Chris knew wasn’t fake.  “Credit me with the beginning.”  She slammed the door shut on her jeep and sped away.

Luke glared at Chris sullenly.  “Did you really have to do that?”

Chris crossed his arms in the cold, but it was more defense than anything else.  “She likes to describe it how she remembers it, not how it was.”

“Don’t we all?” Luke retorted, and Chris didn’t have a ready reply.  “So you want that ride home now?”  He sounded more tired than before.

“No, no…I really don’t,” Chris muttered before rubbing a hand over his short-cut hair.  “I’m just going to find somewhere to stay in town; I’ll call a car in the morning.”

Luke looked at him derisively.  “So you’re going to try and get a room at the Dragonfly.”

Chris groaned.  “Seriously?”

“Yeah.  Seriously.”

Chris couldn’t make the frustrated feeling building in his blood go away, pulsing through his body like adrenaline and like he couldn’t rid himself of it.  “I just can’t catch a fucking break, can I?”

Luke shrugged, leaning against his truck.  “Does it look like anyone else is right now?”

Chris fell against the truck beside of him, face turned up to the sky.  He smiled bitterly and chuckled with the same dark resonance in his laugh.  “Does it look like snow?”

Luke frowned as he looked at the sky.  “Not really.  Weatherman said it’ll be a couple of weeks before even a nor’easter comes our way.”

He chuckled and looked up with a boyish smile.  “Who do you think taught Lorelai how to know when snow’s coming?”

Luke seemed to consider the idea for a moment.  “I always thought she was just hooked up to some ice god in the sky.”

Chris shook his head.  “Nope; it was me.  The sky turns a specific color and the air smells a certain way.  Not to mention I broke my left wrist skateboarding, and it always knows.”

Luke snorted.  “Superstitious nonsense,” he muttered, but the air was growing cold and his body unconsciously leaned toward warmth.  “Everyone with a broken bone says that.  It’s like how I tell everyone in the diner that my right ankle predicted the rain ever since I broke it in cross country.”

Chris sighed and rolled off the truck.  “Yeah, but you don’t tell them it actually hurts when it’s going to rain.”  He headed for the diner.

Luke remained behind, because something familiar had finally clicked into place as he watched Chris walk away, and he really hated it.  Lorelai was definitely going to despite it.  Rory would probably think it funny and ironic in some way, and Emily, if nothing else, would turn it into theatre for an audience of one to show how the poor and the rich interacted.

They were becoming _friends_ (or something), and Luke ambled up after Chris, because if nothing else, whenever someone told him he was forbidden from doing something, he was damn well going to do it.  He sidled up to Chris closer than he normally would, using the personal space rules he normally reserved for Liz and Jess.

“Yeah, it hurts when it’s going to rain,” Luke admitted.

Chris looked at him, giving him yet another look that Luke attributed largely to Rory.  He hadn’t known where she had gotten a handful of stares from, but he was beginning to.  “I’m not staying at the Dragonfly.”

Luke shrugged, portraying disinterest and trying hard not to feel like his first sleepover in elementary school where someone had dumped ice water on his crotch because he had fallen asleep first.  “Take April’s bed if you want.  You said yourself, it’s gonna snow.”

Chris sighed.  “If I don’t get back to Hartford tonight, I’ll be stuck here when the snow really moves in.”

“I’ll give you a ride back to your car in the morning.  After that, you’re on your own.”

XXXXX

Naturally, the next morning had Luke waking up to three feet of snow on the ground with more falling all the faster.

Luke slid a cup of coffee towards Chris when he woke three hours after Luke had already been up.

“I’m not going home today, am I?” Chris asked, though his tone indicated he already knew the answer as he picked up the cup.

Luke sipped at his orange juice.  “You knew it was going to snow like this.”

The small, mischievous smile on Chris’s face made something hurt in Luke’s gut, something he couldn’t explain.  “Yeah, I kinda did.”

Luke gave a frustrated grunt.  “How the hell do you two know when it’s going to snow like _this_ though?  I’ve been watching the news and the weather; what the fuck?  I mean, there’s predicting snow, and then there’s _this_.”

Chris looked at him with more bitter than sweet and lifted his left wrist.  “Been swollen since about eleven last night.”

Luke felt that unfamiliar tug in his gut again and frowned.  “I’ve got to open the diner.”  He pulled his hat over his thinning hair.  “I’ll make sure you get back to your car at the end of the day.”  He sped down the stairs to get to the familiarity of the kitchen, something that he knew he could predict and determine the outcome of.

It was the oddest thing when Chris came down, holding up his cell phone.  “I got a driver to take me where I need to get to.”  He looked at his phone for a long moment before sliding a piece of paper toward Luke.  “Text or call if you ever want to.”

Luke glared at him.  “Like that driver’s gonna get you anywhere, and like hell you’re gonna be able to drive yourself home after that.”

Chris’s smile was far too thin—no trace of smugness, gloating, just…just a fake smile that Luke found himself entirely too uncomfortable with.  “The guy’s driving a snowplow.  I’m getting back home, okay?  Just taking the long way around.”

Luke snorted and resumed whisking eggs with one hand while he laid bacon out on the grill with the other.  “Prettiest of views, is it?” he replied sarcastically.

Chris only rolled his eyes.  “Mountains and rivers.”

Luke pretended he didn’t keep looking out the window until Chris had left and that the paper with his number on it didn’t disappear into his pocket.  He also ignored the fact that sometimes, Chris’s crooked smirk made him want to smile with him.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've actually got a few drafts done for the upcoming chapters (all of which have titles). I like having a bit of a cushion though when it comes to the queue of "to be uploaded" chapters-wise because it kind of takes some of the pressure off of me to put out a chapter quickly.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


	3. And I, Your Willing Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rory and Lorelai talk. Luke and Liz talk. Even Luke and Rory talk.
> 
> And then Chris and Luke play a game. Luke is pretty sure it isn't entirely fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta done by LegacySoulReaver.
> 
> ATTN: This has to be said, because apparently, some reviewers aren't getting it. This is a LUKE/CHRIS story, as in, they will BOINK at some point. If LUKE and CHRIS getting it on at some point IS NOT your thing, please hit the back button.
> 
> And, as my mother used to say, "If you don't have anything nice to say, than say nothing at all.".
> 
> YOU GOT THAT???? (ala Ash in Living Dead....Shop Smart...Shop S-Mart).
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT FOR MY BIG MISTAKE: Gah, so, I missed it when I posted this, but Liz is younger than Luke ^^; Not gonna lie; was watching "The Flash", and on the show Scrubs, JD's older brother, Dan, plays the Yellow Flash (Harrison Wells), so I had JD's brother, Dan, going "Hey, little brother" in my head the whole time. I apologize for the error; it is now fixed.
> 
> Many thanks to the reader at FF.net who noticed!
> 
> Though...I gotta say...I would've expected that from my Trekkies before my Gilmores ^^;;; Sorry again for the error!

Rory balanced two boxes of pizza between the three bags of take-out food over her wrists.  She kicked the front door of her childhood home.  “Mom!  Bogged down with more food than what killed King Henry I!  Open up!”

Lorelai opened the door and grabbed the pizza boxes.  “Gimme; I’m starving!”

Rory rolled her eyes and put the bags on the coffee table.  “Nice to see you too.  So, what’s with the take-out feast?  Everything okay?  Did you and Luke talk it out?  Did Dad leave yet?”

Lorelai flopped on the couch with a slice of pizza in her hand.  “I was hungry, no, not really, and hopefully.”

Rory raised an eyebrow as she took a seat as well.  “I’ll raise you on the first one; why did you really want _this_ much take-out?”

Lorelai flipped the television on.  “Ooh, look!  Casablanca.  Classic.”

“You’re not answering the question,” Rory taunted in a sing-song voice.  “Come on; what’s going on?  Are you and Luke okay?”

Lorelai sunk further into the couch.  “I don’t wanna talk.  I want to eat and watch Bogart.”

Rory dug into her purse.  “I guess you don’t want Gene Wilder and Madeline Kahn then in classic black and white.”  She held up a DVD of “Young Frankenstein”.

“Gimme!”

Rory held it away from Lorelai’s reach.  “Not until you tell me what’s going on!”

“Ugh, who taught you the ways of evil, child?” Lorelai muttered.  “I swear, you’re Rosemary’s baby all grown up.”

“Mom…”

Lorelai sighed and stared straight ahead.  “ _Fine_ ,” she ground out.  “Luke and I are still fighting.  Anna is Joan Crawford.  Chris and Luke are besties.  And no, I don’t care to elaborate.  Can we watch the movie now?”

Rory snatched the remote away and hit pause on the TiVO.  “Wait, Dad and Luke are _friends_ now?  When did that happen?”

“Sometime between a bar and Miss Patty’s punch,” Lorelai grumbled and eyed where Rory held the remote.  She wondered if she could get it back fast enough.  “Look, I don’t know, alright?  All I know is they ended up at a bar, then back at Luke’s place, then Founder’s Day punch, and now, all of a sudden, it’s okay for Luke to go and ask Chris about problems that have nothing to do with him.”

“Well…it’s not like Dad’s got that many friends; you’ve said it yourself,” Rory edged out cautiously and handed a container of General Tsao’s chicken over.  “Maybe Luke doesn’t either.  And besides, it’s not like they were talking about _you_ specifically.”

Lorelai snorted.  “I bet they were comparing _notes_.”

“Ew, Mom!  Not okay!”

“Look, kid,” Lorelai sighed.  “I don’t really want to talk about this.  I just need a you and me night.  Bad take-out food, Bogart, Wilder…any and everything in between.  Can we just do that, and I promise, we’ll talk more tomorrow?”

Her mom looked exhausted and a little red-rimmed around the eyes, so Rory capitulated.  “Okay, fine…” She held up a fork with a piece of sesame chicken on it.  “But we are _definitely_ talking tomorrow.”

Lorelai nodded as Rory hit the play button.

XXXXX

Luke had never been much for phones, especially cell phones.  He held his own in his hand, the one Lorelai had picked out and really, had _way_ too many gadgets or widgets or apps or whatever it was.  All he’d argued about was the price, because seriously, so long as it worked, he didn’t care.

Another lucky happenstance was that Liz never minded when he wanted to drop in unannounced.

“Hey, big brother!  Come on in!  Doula’s just finishing her homework,” Liz said and hugged Luke affectionately.

“Hey, Luke!” TJ called from the kitchen.  “I just put some supper on; you want in on this?  It’s gonna be tasty!”

“I’m not really staying,” Luke started politely, only to be cut off by Liz.

“Oh, but you gotta!  TJ’s making this thing he saw on Facebook and it’s gonna be _amazing_ ,” Liz pleaded.  “It’s like a calzone, but all braided and stuff.  It’ll be way cool.”

“Seriously, Liz; I only came by to—“

“Is Uncle Luke gonna stay for dinner?” Doula called out from the living room, inching away from her homework as if the unexpected guest would get her out of it.

Luke rubbed her head affectionately; she was the spitting image of Liz.  “Do your school stuff; it’s important.”

Doula rolled her eyes.  “I’m _home_ -schooled; I can do it whenever I want.”

“Uncle Luke’s right; you’ll do it now or I’ll send you to Stars Hollow Middle once you’re old enough,” Liz said with little venom.  “And I’ve told you about _that_ place.”  She looped her arm through Luke’s and tugged him to the back patio of their home as TJ sang off-key in the kitchen.  “What’s going on, big brother?”

Luke sighed.  “It’s…it’s nothing, really.”

Liz seemed to size him up quickly enough though.  “Oh, so you and Lorelai are still fighting, huh.”

“I don’t want us to be,” Luke admitted as he sat down in one of the plushy lawn chairs.  “But Anna and Lorelai are both making things into deal-breakers.  I don’t know what to do.  I want April there, but Lorelai doesn’t want Anna there, and I can’t say I blame her.  It’s like Anna’s looking at this wedding as the din of evil for our precious, innocent daughter.”

Liz tilted her head as she sat beside Luke, balancing it on her hand.  “I don’t think that’s it, man.  You gotta see it from Anna’s point of view.”

“Believe me, I’m trying!  But it’s like neither one of them want this to work!”

“That’s not it at _all_ , big brother.  C’mon, you really don’t know why Anna’s so upset?  Why she’s doing everything to make it seem like April can’t go?”

Luke gave a frustrated growl, kneading his fingers into his knees.  “No, I really don’t.  Enlighten me, Liz; please, by all means.”

“She’s jealous, man!  You’re marrying Lorelai, Rory already looks up to you in her own way, and April’s totally cool with Lorelai.  It’s like you’re replacing Anna with Lorelai, so having April at your wedding just kind of confirms it.”

“Yeah, well, what about Lorelai?  You think she’d understand the situation, what with Rory and Chris.”

Liz raised an eyebrow.  “Chris?  You mean Rory’s dad?”

“Yeah, Chris,” Luke reiterated edgily, because Liz had that thoughtful look on her face like she was about to bluntly ask about something that didn’t matter.

“So…you’re on a first name basis now with him?  I thought you hated the guy,” Liz asked curiously.

“I don’t _hate_ the guy; I hate that he wasn’t there for Rory growing up, not like I was,” Luke pointed out, and much to his consternation, this only served to make Liz look more amused.  “Look, he just happened to end up at the same bar I did when Lorelai and I first had the fight that started this whole mess, and he leant a sympathetic ear.”

“Being that he’s dealt with Hurricane Lorelai before himself,” Liz offered with a nod of her head, as if trying to support Luke’s side.

“Well…kind of.  I don’t know, alright?” Luke responded irritably.  “Either way, now she’s pissed that I was talking to him at all, and it’s not really fair considering how she’s alienating Anna as best as she can.  For god’s sake, she called Anna Joan Crawford.”

Liz winced.  “Ooh, that must’ve been fun.”  She patted her hand affectionately to Luke’s leg.  “Look, big brother…the way I see it, you need to lay it all down for both of them.  You want April there.  And even though Lorelai doesn’t want Anna there, if that’s the only way Anna’s gonna let April go or be a part of it, then Lorelai will have to deal.”

“Lorelai thinks she’s had to deal with enough when it comes to Anna and April.”

Liz shook her head.  “Wrong way of thinking.  She loves you, and you’re a package deal, just like she is.  Just like Rory and Chris will always be a part of Lorelai’s life, she’s gotta understand that Anna and April are part of yours.  She can’t expect you to accept her life but start a fight over yours.”

Luke sighed.  “She’s not gonna like that.”  He cradled his face in his hands.  “Fuck, Liz…what do I do?”

Liz rubbed a soothing hand over his back.  “You put it out there.  It’s up to her if she’s going to accept it or not.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Then you’ll find someone who loves you _and_ April enough to deal with Anna.”

TJ yelled incoherently from the house, and Liz grinned.

“Also, you’re staying for pizza braids.”

Luke groaned.  TJ was a terrible cook.

XXXXX

Luke wasn’t terribly surprised when Rory came in the next morning alone and looking for him.  He supposed this was going to happen sooner or later, and he’d rather get it over with then keep waiting.  He poured her a cup of coffee in silence as she stared at him in the same, calculating fashion that Chris had not too long ago.

“Something I can help you with?” he asked, but it was clear in his tone that he was tired of her staring.

Rory sipped her coffee.  “Mom says you and Dad are besties.”

“Oh, now that’s just not true,” Luke muttered as he replaced the coffee pot.  “We talked.  I almost pushed him into a lake.”

Rory laughed.  “Which is pretty much what Mom wants to do to both of you.  She feels like you were talking about her behind her back.”

“We weren’t talking about _her_ specifically; I was just venting!  Christ, doesn’t anyone get that sometimes, a guy just needs another guy to talk to?” Luke grumbled, and looked around the diner for customers.  There weren’t that many, however, because Rory was smart and had come during the lull between breakfast and lunch.  “I mean, jeez; if the guy hadn’t even _been_ at the same bar, I wouldn’t have talked to him!”

Rory clutched her coffee in her pale, narrow fingers in a considering sort of way.  “You could’ve talked to TJ, maybe.  Luke, she was really upset.  Like… _really_ upset.”

Luke sighed, staring hard at the counter and wishing, for the first time possibly ever, that Rory would take her coffee to go.  “If she’s so upset,” he gritted out, “Then why isn’t _she_ here, talking to me?”

Rory set her coffee down.  “Maybe she’s afraid that you’re hurting as much as she is, and doesn’t know how to talk to you right now when she feels like you won’t listen.”

“Rory, I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” Luke sighed out.  “But this is between me and your mom.  We’ll work it out.”

Rory finished her coffee.  “Can I get one to go?” she asked softly, and there was something in her voice that make Luke’s gut clench in panic.

“We will work it out, Rory.  At least, I think we will.”

Rory nodded as she took her cup.  “I know you’ll try.  Good seeing you, Luke.”  She left the diner in silence, a contemplative look on her face.

Luke sighed again as he watched her go, getting the distinct impression that Rory had all but broken up with him on her mother’s behalf.

XXXXX

Chris put the Playstation controller down when he heard the knock on the door.  Frowning, he quickly paused his game and went to the door, completely unprepared when he saw Luke standing there, looking a combination of uncomfortable, embarrassed, and reluctant.

“So, I’m really not good at the whole calling ahead thing, because I’m not good with phones in general, but it’s been a shitty day, and I’m pretty sure Rory might have, more or less, just told me that things aren’t going to work out, and I could use a sounding board.”  He turned his gaze up, looking irritable and uncertain.  “If you want me to leave, I will.”

“No, no, no, come in,” Chris offered, opening the door wider and standing aside.  “I was…well, yeah, I was playing a video game.”

Luke rolled his eyes.  “That crap will rot your brain, you know.”  He entered tensely, as if there were a spring trap waiting to deploy.

Chris shrugged, unoffended.  “I find it to be pretty good stress release.  Besides, Gigi’s in Europe and it means not having to watch whatever crap she pulls up on Netflix.”

Luke fell more than sat on the couch.  Chris sat beside of him, taking up the controller again just to have something to do with his hands.

“So, you said Rory broke up with you for Lore?” Chris asked, even though he was more than unwilling to poke the bear.

“Yeah,” Luke said, and that tired quality was back in his tone.  “She didn’t outright say it…but I talked with my sister the other night, and between what she said and what Rory didn’t say…”  He took his hat off and put it on the coffee table.  “It was pretty clear to me.”

Chris considered for a moment as he sat back into the couch.  “Rory’s not always right, you know.  And I haven’t met your sister, so I couldn’t say one way or another.”

Luke chuckled faintly.  “Liz is a trip.  A literal trip, to the 70’s, that is.  She and her husband do Renaissance fair stuff; she makes jewelry.  My niece is about 8, I think; I’m bad with birthdays.  Still, Liz knows me pretty well.”  He leaned back on the couch too, shoulder to shoulder with Chris.  “I don’t guess you have beer, do you?”

“I’m sure I’ve got…something.  Maybe not your kind of beer, but I’ll figure it out.”  Chris got up and snagged a couple of the craft beers from the fridge and returned to the living room to find Luke handling the controller with skeptical interest.

Chris set one of the beers on a coaster before taking a drink from his.  “It won’t rot your brain just by playing once, you know.”

Luke put the controller down.  “I played a Wii with April once…bowling.  She said I ought to wear the stupid wrist thing, and I ended up not wearing it, because it’s a _video_ game, and I ended up throwing her controller.”

Chris sat down and picked up the controller.  “I’ve got a Wii, but I’d rather you not put any holes in the wall.”

“I didn’t say it made a hole in the wall.”

“Sure,” Chris responded, ignoring the scowl Luke threw in his direction.  “So, Rory?”

Luke groaned and took a long pull on the beer.  “Yeah.  She came into the diner this morning.  Basically said that she knew we’d try, but that Lorelai was pretty much done.”

“I doubt Rory would be that blunt,” Chris offered.  “Maybe she just believes you’ll try to make it work.”

“That’s just it,” Luke responded, sounding more hollow than before.  “She thinks we’ll _try_ ; she doesn’t think we’ll _do_ it.  Rory’s all about what words she uses, not what she’s literally saying.”

Chris nodded his head agreeably.  “Yeah, she is.  But she’s _Rory_ ; she doesn’t know all the time what Lore wants or is willing to fight for.  They’re different people, and maybe Rory doesn’t know all that she should.”

Luke sighed, but said nothing else, so Chris resumed his game.  He couldn’t help but notice Luke sitting up a little more to analyze the TV and the movements on the controller in poorly veiled interest.  Chris smirked, but didn’t say anything as he continued to play.

“So what is this game anyway?  Something that promotes violence or stealing cars or killing hookers?” Luke asked with a note of derision that was ruined by the fact he seemed interested.

Chris snorted.  “Hardly.  It’s a boxing game from like…ten years ago.  I’m playing “The Greatest”.”

“Ali, huh?” Luke asked, shifting toward the edge of the couch as Chris delivered a haymaker on the game.  “So, no Pacquiano, huh?”

Chris shrugged.  “Just an easy way to beat the shit out of something without getting arrested or injured.”

Luke rolled his shoulders as he drank his beer.  “You gave as good as you got,” he finally conceded reluctantly, as if imparting a secret he didn’t want to tell.

“You want to try?” Chris asked, offering the controller when the fight was done.  “The character’s pretty much built; all you have to do is punch.”

Luke eyed the controller with trepidation.  “Just punch?”

Chris nodded.  “Look, just use the D-pad and R-1.  You’ll be fine.”

XXXXX

Two hours, a quick beer run to the corner store nearby, and Luke familiarizing himself with the controller’s set-up found both of them sitting on the edge of the couch, punching buttons fiercely.

“Yeah, well how about this?” Chris asked, delivering a hard punch to Luke’s character on the screen.

“Oh, come _on_!” Luke shouted, pushing into Chris as his character tried to make it back from a knock-out.  “Isn’t there a ref or something in this?  _Fuck_ ,” he spat at the end when his character couldn’t make it back.  “I told you, these games rot your damn brain.”

Chris rolled his eyes.  “You’re only saying that because you lost.  When you won ten minutes ago, it was all “these games aren’t so bad” and something about fine motor control.”

Luke snorted.  “Mario Brothers was all about fine motor control; this game is rigged.”  He sighed heavily and leaned back.

Chris turned to look at him, and decided now was the time to bring it up.  “Look, man…you and Lorelai…that’s so much time in the making, it’ll work out.”

“I don’t know if she wants it to anymore,” Luke groused, and stripped his flannel off, now just wearing a maroon long-sleeved shirt.  “If I had to be honest, I don’t know if I want it to anymore either.”

Chris frowned as he turned toward Luke, his knee settling against the other man’s hip and his elbow propped on the back of the couch.  “You love her, don’t you?”

Luke shrugged in agreement.  “Yeah, I do.”  He crossed his arms and leaned back, his head falling close to Chris’s elbow.  “I don’t love the drama.  I don’t love the fighting.  I don’t love Rory coming into the diner and passing her own personal judgment.”

Chris sighed, letting his arm straighten against the back of the couch so that Luke’s head was resting just in front of it.  It made the hairs on Chris’s arm stand up.  “You don’t know that Rory was taking away her blessing.  She’s still analyzing; you know how Rory is.”

Luke chuckled, but it sounded faint.  “Yeah…you know she gets that look from you?”  He turned his head toward Chris, wavy brown hair rubbing against the arm behind him.  “She’s quiet, but she’s always thinking.  And then sometimes, she’ll turn all of that thought on you with just a look.  She gets it from you.”

Chris reached for his beer in lieu of replying, because honestly, he’d had so few people in his life tell him that _anything_ about Rory reminded them of him.

Luke frowned at Chris’s silence.  “There’s a lot of you in her, Chris.  They may not always see it, but it’s there.”

Chris sighed, ducking his head because Luke’s compliment had twisted his gut again, had made him feel warm in a way that he attributed to the several beers he had drank.  “Thanks, Luke.”

“So…are we friends now?” Luke asked suddenly.  “I don’t have many of those.”

Chris shrugged.  “I’ve punched you in the face before and made sure you didn’t choke on your vomit.  Pretty sure that means we could be friends.”

Luke laughed weakly as he drank his beer again.  “Lorelai’s gonna hate it.”

“She’ll deal.”

“Well, maybe Lorelai should take a page out of my book and get to know the evil ex she hates so much,” Luke muttered, looking withdrawn and irritable again.

Chris chucked his shoulder into Luke’s, turning back toward the TV but not reducing his proximity.  “None of that, unless you want to talk about it.”

Luke nodded toward the TV.  “I really don’t.”  He peered at the shelving beside of Chris’s TV.  “Got any good movies?”

Chris snorted and exited the game.  “I’ve got Netflix and Hulu.  What’s your poison?”

“You’ve got what and what?”

XXXXX

Luke woke slowly, groggily trying to figure out his surroundings until he recognized the living room of Chris’s apartment.  He groaned at the small headache pulsing in his head.  He remembered falling asleep, debating the merits of Star Trek deciding to change the red-shirts of engineering/security to command/aviation with Chris as they sleepily watched first Voyager and then Enterprise.  He went to lift a hand to his hair, but then realized there was a weight against his chest.

They had fallen asleep sitting up, and Luke swallowed tightly when he realized he had one arm loosely propped over Chris’s shoulder blades.  Chris was bunched in against his side, one arm slung over Luke’s hips and snoring softly, just like he had in Jess’s bed so many days ago.

Luke wasn’t sure he could extricate himself without waking Chris, but he was definitely uncomfortable.  First and foremost, he really needed the bathroom, and secondly, he was sitting on Chris’s couch, practically _cuddling_ for God’s sake, when he needed to talk to Lorelai, and _holy fuck_ , it was 6AM.

The notice of time got him moving, and he ignored Chris’s groggy protest as he grabbed his green army jacket.  He wanted to say something, but no words came.

Instead, Luke stood at the door awkwardly, taking in little more than Chris sprawled out on the couch, a strip of skin standing out between the edge of an Offspring tee-shirt and low-slung dark-washed jeans.  He knew he should say _something_ ; that’s what people did as friends.

But between the time crunch and the fact that something entirely too familiar had settled into his chest, Luke simply shut the door and headed back for Stars Hollow as fast as he could get away with.  He was halfway back and struggling with his phone to call Cesar to make sure he still had opened up when he realized he’d left his flannel shirt over the back of Chris’s couch.

Luke swore and went a little faster.

XXXXX

Lorelai entered the diner cautiously, Rory’s insistence that she at least _try_ and talk to Luke again still ringing in her head.  She wasn’t all that sure she wanted to, and likened the walk to the diner as one step below a walk of shame.

To her surprise though, Cesar was manning the counter and kitchen while Lane and one of the other servers bustled around the breakfast rush.

“Morning, Lorelai!” Lane greeted as she juggled three plates and swept around her.  “Coffee?”

“Where’s Luke?” Lorelai asked neutrally, sitting down at one of the empty barstools as Lane rounded the counter and grabbed the coffeepot.

Lane shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine.  He wasn’t here when Cesar came to open at 5.  You want this to go?”

“Yeah,” Lorelai said with confusion in her voice.  “Really?  He just…wasn’t here?”

“Nope,” Lane replied, capping the coffee and sliding it across the counter.  “His truck’s gone too.  Maybe he went fishing and just forgot to say anything?  Did he say anything to you?”

Lorelai shook her head and stood as Lane took her money.  “No…nothing.  I was just coming today to see if he wanted to talk over some things.  I’ll try for him later.”  She held up her coffee.  “Thanks for the God’s nectar, Lane.”

Lane smiled and waved as she left.

Lorelai looked around the building, and sure enough, Luke’s truck was absent.  She frowned as she sipped at her coffee and headed to her own vehicle.  She had just closed the door when she heard the sound of the missing truck halt to a stop.

“Luke,” Lorelai called, getting back out and frowning at his harried appearance.  He wasn’t wearing his usual flannel shirt, and looked a little tired and rumpled.  “What happened?”

“I overslept,” Luke replied shortly.  “I’ve gotta get in there and make sure Cesar got the truck order in.”  He walked past her briskly, not willing to entertain any further questioning.

Lorelai frowned and followed up.  “Hey, wait a minute,” she said, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket.

Luke grimaced and tried to school his facial features into neutrality when he turned.  “What?  I’m in a hurry.”

“I know, I just wanted to know if we could talk later,” Lorelai replied, feeling a bit dismissed at this point and wondering if offering to try and talk was such a good idea.

“Yeah, fine.  I’ll call you.”  Luke entered the diner quickly without further words.

Lorelai knew the hurt must be apparent on her face and wondered if Luke had noticed it at all.  She sighed and headed back for her jeep.  If walking up to the diner had felt like a walk of shame, Luke’s absent dismissal had felt like a stay of execution.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been brought to my attention over on FF.net that I'm painting Lorelai as a bad person.
> 
> Real Talk=I'm trying really hard to to characterize Lorelai faithfully WHEN she is in the story. Seeing as this is Luke/Chris fic, I can't say she'll be there a lot, but when she is, it'll be from Luke and Chris's POV.
> 
> I'm not gonna lie; I don't always like Lorelai as a person, and it tends to color how I write her. I apologize :-( I honestly try to write her as I see her (this coming from an author who writes while she's watching Gilmore Girls).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	4. I Let You See The Parts Of Me That Weren't All That Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Lorelai talk a little. Luke punches something. Then Luke and Chris talk a little more too, before Luke surprises him at the end of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I've been informed that my last author's notes may have come off a bit...strong in the sense that they were pushy and presumptuous.
> 
> That being said, I apologize. I rarely write in such popular fandoms like Gilmore Girls, and I always get thrown off-guard when I get a flame over the pairing anymore and it puts me on defense.
> 
> So, I hope you're still enjoying the story and that it's coming along well enough. Things will eventually be OOC I'd imagine, given the characters, but I'm doing my best because this has always been a secret fave pairing of mine and I've never seen it done.

“So where were you last night?”

Luke looked up as he stopped wiping the counter.  Lorelai stood close by, her face an amalgam of confusion and guarded.

“I was at Liz and TJ’s.  I went to see Liz and then stayed for dinner,” Luke responded.  It wasn’t a lie, per se, but he had the feeling if she knew he’d been at Chris’s, she’d be pissed.

“So you overslept there?  I don’t know how you managed that, isn’t Doula an early riser?” Lorelai asked.

“Yeah, but I had trouble sleeping anyway and just ended up not hearing my alarm,” Luke said.  “You said you wanted to talk though.”

Lorelai nodded and sat the counter.  “Rory said I should at least try.”

“Rory’s a smart kid.”  Luke was surprised to hear it, considering he felt Rory had seemed to think they were done.

Lorelai nodded and sighed heavily.  “I _really_ don’t want Anna there.  Like…I’d rather have the cast from Cop Rock sing the music than have her there.”

Luke sighed, because that was exactly what he’d thought she might say (minus the Cop Rock reference naturally).  “And if she won’t let April come unless she can be there?”

Lorelai drummed her fingers on the counter before answering.  “I think that’s more between you and Anna.  She clearly has issues with me; I’ve tried to be nice and forthcoming and honest every step of the way where April’s concerned.  Believe me, I get it.  I’ve been in her position before, but I’m done trying to reason with her.”

“So…you’re basically making it my problem,” Luke responded before he could think better of himself.  “You’re more or less just dumping it off on me, because then if things really hit the fan, I’ll be the one to blame because somehow, _I_ didn’t make it work.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all!” Lorelai replied fiercely.  “And that’s incredibly unfair.  What I’m saying is that when negotiating with Anna, I’m only making things _worse_.  Maybe she’ll listen to you if I’m not there is all!”

Luke crossed his arms and nodded his head to the side.  He knew it wasn’t helping to be sarcastic and snappy, but damn it, this wasn’t right.  “So you’re just going to avoid the problem and sit back while I try to fix it and once again, if it goes down badly, you’re absolved somehow of responsibility because she’s _my_ ex and that somehow magically gives me powers of persuasion over her.”

“I’m not trying to blame anything on you!  Why are you being like this?  I’m trying to make this work, and you’re just finding issues with it!”

Luke spread his arms out.  “Well, excuse me for thinking that your solution is really just you dumping the whole problem into my lap!  It takes two to work these things out, and frankly, my idea was that April’s 18 years old; she can damn well go wherever she likes, because if Anna decides to pull the whole “my house, my rules” bullshit, then you damn well know that kid’s got a place to stay with  me.”  He threw the rag down angrily.  “Your solution, on the other hand, is to put me in charge of the whole damn problem and when I predictably can’t get it through to Anna that April will be _fine_ , then it’ll be _my_ fault because it’s _my_ ex and _my_ fucking decision to want my child at my wedding!”

“You’re acting like I don’t want this to work at all!”

“Do you?” Luke snapped before he could cut himself off.

Lorelai didn’t respond right away, her mouth hanging open.  “Of _course_ I do!” she finally managed when she seemed to remember how her voice worked.

But the damage had been done in the several seconds before she could respond.

“Just…just leave, I can’t do this,” Luke muttered, the fight draining away.

“Luke, we can do this,” Lorelai tried, reaching for his hand.

Luke jerked away.  “Just go away, Lorelai.  I’ll call you.”

Lorelai glared at him, the hurt shining in her eyes.  “Like you called me tonight?  _I_ came over here.”

“I’m done for now; I can’t fight with you anymore,” Luke replied.  “Lock the door on your way out.”

Lorelai snatched her purse from the counter, slamming the door on her way to the street outside.

Luke swore and stood tightly for a moment before punching the counter hard enough that the thwacking sound was accompanied by a sickening crunch.  He swore again as his fingers immediately started to swell and darken.  He bent over, trying to breathe through the fresh new pain running from his fingers to his elbow, and rested his head on the counter briefly before wondering who the hell he could call right now because he wasn’t going to be able to drive himself to the hospital.

He picked up his cell phone and dug out his wallet one-handed, flipping through the items inside before he found it.

XXXXX

“That looks both painful and regretful,” Chris mentioned with slight amusement as Luke jerked open the door, sat down, and placed a towel wrapped around a ziplock bag of ice on his right hand.

“You’re right on both accounts,” Luke muttered.  “Just drive, would you?  I would’ve called Jackson, but I’m pretty sure that’s where Lorelai was headed after she took off from the diner, and once she’s over there, Jackson may or may not want to break my other hand.”

“It’s really broken?” Chris asked, eyes darting over.

“Yeah, I think so,” Luke grumbled.  “Looks like I’ve got more than one way to predict rain now.”

“What’d you punch?”  Chris tightened his fist around the steering wheel, sorely tempted to text Lorelai a picture of Luke’s hand when they got to the hospital.  He didn’t think Luke would have any of that though.

“The counter at the diner,” Luke replied, and then hissed when Chris hit a bump in the road.  “Easy!  This isn’t Grand Theft Auto.”

“You liked that game once you saw it wasn’t all about killing hookers.”

Luke rolled his eyes, cradling the injured hand to his chest.  “I would love to banter back and forth about the disparities of the fact that _kids_ can play that game, but I’m currently in too much pain to give a shit.”

“There’s ibuprofen in the glove box,” Chris offered, and hit the gas a little harder.

“Yeah, I’m going to have trouble with that.  Broken fingers, remember?”

Chris sighed.  “Sorry,” he apologized, and keeping his eyes on the road, fumbled into the glove box, his wrist bumping on Luke’s knees as he did so.  He finally turned up a faded bottle and managed to twist the cap off.  “I don’t have any water.”

“It’s fine; just give me the pills.”

“You know, in another context,” Chris started, but promptly stopped when Luke glared at him, his hand out for the medicine.  Chris dug four out of the bottle and dropped them into his palm.  “We’re almost there; the hospital will probably give you something stronger.”

“I don’t want anything stronger,” Luke said after swallowing the pills dry.  He coughed a little, but otherwise settled back into the seat.  “Thanks.”

Chris waved him off.  “Don’t mention it.  I take it trying to talk things out didn’t go over so well with Lore though.”

“You could say that.”  Luke rested his head against the window.  “And I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Wasn’t going to make you.”  He pulled off the main road to head towards the hospital next.  “Might help though.”

“Getting me to a doctor will help so I can find out how long, exactly, I’m screwed.”

“Maybe it won’t be so bad; you’ve gotta start looking at things more positively.”

“You really think I want to be positive right now?  Or should I ask how positive _you_ wanted to feel after you two broke up?”

“Don’t take your shit out on me,” Chris challenged.  “I know you’re pissed, but you can’t tap in with me to get over it.”

“I…look, can we just _not_ talk about it?  I’m in a lot of pain and way more likely to be an asshole.”

“As opposed to when?” Chris asked dryly, but it made the corners of Luke’s mouth twitch.  He put the car in park and turned the interior light on.  “Come on, let me see.  I’ve broken a finger or two before.”

Luke hissed as he took the towel and melting ice off his hand.  “Yeah, me too.  It’s how I know I couldn’t just set this at home.”

Chris turned Luke’s swollen hand over in his own and whistled low.  The fingers were swollen, bruised, and turning a vibrant shade of purple.  At least one of them was definitely out of alignment, and the back of his hand in a similar condition.  “I think you broke your hand, not just your fingers.”

Luke nodded and fumbled to get the door open.  “Yeah, that’s what I thought too.  I hit it pretty hard.”

Chris got out of the car and they walked up to the ER entrance together.  “Did it help?”

Luke shrugged.  “Not really.”

“Well, then at least look on this bright side,” Chris said amicably enough, clapping a hand on Luke’s shoulder.  “If you’re really good for the doctor, maybe you’ll get a lollipop.”

Luke scowled at him.  “If my punching fist wasn’t broken, I’d hit you.”

Chris chuckled.  “I know.”

XXXXX

Two and a half hours later, Luke exited the hospital with Chris, glaring at the cast on his hand.  “Really?  They had to cast it?  They couldn’t just _splint_ it?  And you know why, don’t you?  Because they’re doctors, and all they want is more money out of you.  So, instead of a five dollar splint, they have to go and wrap the hand in a damn 40 dollar cast or something, which also means I’ll _have_ to come back and get it removed!”

Chris took the rant in stride.  “Maybe you should’ve let them give you something for the pain.”

“I’m not paying for what I could probably find being sold behind the high school!” Luke retorted.  “Not to mention it’s _green_ ; seriously, they were out of _white casts_ at a hospital?”

“What’s so bad about green?  Looks good on you,” Chris replied without thinking, and got into the car before Luke could see his face redden.

Luke didn’t seem to have heard though as he got back in the car as well.  “And now _everyone’s_ gonna want to sign it and ask how I broke it, and so help me god, if Kirk decides he’s an artist this week and his favorite medium is _casts_ , I’m gonna put him in a full-body one so he can make a mural!”

“Tell everyone you broke it fishing or something.”

Luke raised an eyebrow.  “You’ve clearly never been fishing.”

“Not recently, no,” Chris admitted, and the more he thought about it, the more that yeah, it was a pretty dumb excuse.  “Uh…boxing?”

Luke rolled his eyes.  “I don’t box.”

“Golfing?”

“Did Lorelai ever tell you about the time Richard asked me to golf?” It was clear by his tone of voice that it hadn’t gone well.

“No…no, she did not,” Chris replied, obviously trying to contain his laughter.  “How’d it go?”

“What I can remember of it, it was pretty intense.  He decided he wanted me to franchise the diner and open up all over the east coast so I’d be a respected business owner, and not just some guy who runs a diner.”

“That sounds like Richard,” Chris agreed.  “I don’t think they always know what’s best for Lore, honestly.”

“Well, they didn’t think it was me,” Luke muttered.  “I’m beginning to think they were right.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Chris said dismissively.  “Her parents just take time.  Hell, I’m not even remotely _close_ to what they wanted for her.  I was just the one who knocked her up, and by god, I was going to make an honest woman of their daughter.”

“Until she left.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, but more quietly than before.  He cleared his throat and shook away the morose thought.  “In any case, don’t let her parents get to you.  High society doesn’t mean anything; you can see as much with Lore herself.”

“I’m just so far away from that world,” Luke explained.  “I like my diner and my stupid little town and my fishing trips.  Lorelai wants to _go_ places; you can tell.  Hell, she and Rory went all over Europe after Chilton, and I gotta say, man…that kind of thing is _not_ for me.”

“So you’ll stay here, she’ll go have a hell of a time,” Chris pointed out.  “You don’t have to go everywhere she does.”

“What’s the point of being married if we don’t do things together?”

“So you’d expect her to enjoy fishing?”

Luke snorted.  “She hated it.  Loved shopping for it, hated the actual fishing part.”  He sighed and leaned his head against the headrest.  “I’m starting to wonder if the only reason we’re doing this is _because_ we danced around it for so long, you know?  Not going through with it…well, then we’re just back to square one.  I’m not even sure she wants this.  She wanted the unknown, the anticipation.  I don’t know.  It’s like now that we’re on the same track…it’s spooking her.”

“That does sound like her a little bit,” Chris admitted reluctantly.  “I guess the real question is, do _you_ still want it to work?”

“Not if she’s already checked out and is just _looking_ for reasons to get out,” Luke replied bluntly.  He fiddled with his phone in his lap.  “She hasn’t called or done the texting thing since she left the diner.  I’d have heard from Rory by now if she really wasn’t okay.  She just seemed really mad.”

“Okay, so what was it tonight then?  You never did say what got you so angry, you took it out on the table.”  Chris pulled off the main road, this time opting for a longer trip.  Luke didn’t say anything about the different route, and, if anything, seemed grateful to avoid Stars Hollow for a bit longer.

“She pretty much said she absolutely doesn’t want Anna there, and that beyond that, it’s between me and Anna.”

Chris bit the inside of his cheek for a moment before responding.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t kid.  She said the problem was between me and Anna, and that I had to figure it out.”

“Which pretty much means if everything goes south, you’re suddenly to blame.”  Chris tightened his hand on the steering wheel.  “That seems fair,” he spat sarcastically.

“Yeah.  Tell me about it.”  Luke stared distantly out the front windshield.  “You know, maybe I just need to take a weekend.  Let Cesar and Lane run the diner, go out fishing.  Get my mind off of everything for a couple of days.”

“I can’t believe she dumped everything in your lap,” Chris muttered, still angry at Luke’s admission.  “I mean, I know it’s not an easy situation to deal with, but to just give up and say “not my problem”?  That’s just shitty and immature.”

“Yeah, well…she didn’t just dump everything in my lap, I’m about ready to dump her all together,” Luke said tiredly.  “I’m just sick of fighting her when there’s not much I can do about it.  Hell, I didn’t put up a fight when she invited you, did I?”

Chris went from angry to slightly amused.  “She was going to invite me, huh?”

“Yeah.  Said something about you should be there, you’ve been in their lives for so long, etcetera.”

“I would probably go.  Knowing Lore, there would’ve been an open bar.”

“You, me, alcohol, and weddings—well, vow renewals—typically haven’t gone over so well in the past,” Luke pointed out, sounding slightly amused now himself.

“Really?” Chris asked more petulantly than he meant to.  “Okay, I’m sorry for all that crap.  I was drunk, and Emily had been shoving me at Lorelai for months.  Hell, she came to my place and referred to Gigi as “the child” and then “this”.”

“Sounds the Emily I know,” Luke said, and noticed that they were approaching the diner.  “So anyway, thanks for the ride tonight.  You’re welcome to come up and have a few drinks if you want.”

Chris looked at the clock on his dashboard where it read 11:21.  “It’s kind of late.  If I have a few now, I’ll end up staying the night.”

Luke shrugged and gestured him up anyway.  “Then you might as well stay anyway.  It’ll be past midnight by the time you get home.”

Chris sat for a moment, trying to decide if it was really that great an idea.  Not after last time, when he’d groggily realized he was curled around Luke on his couch and perfectly content to stay that way.  He shook the thought off because there was _no way_ in _any_ iteration of the universe that Luke had thought the same thing.  It hadn’t stopped him from holding onto Luke’s shirt though.

Luke bent down.  “You coming?  I’ve got Cesar opening up tomorrow; doc said I shouldn’t do much for at least a week, so I’m giving it a day.”

There was something…almost hopeful about Luke’s face, and Chris sighed as he switched off the ignition.  “Sure, why not?” he said mildly.

Luke grinned, and Chris felt his stomach flip.  That _so_ wasn’t good.

XXXXX

“So what do you do for entertainment if you don’t play video games?” Chris asked, looking around Luke’s apartment.  He didn’t recall much of it from the last time he’d been in here, but as he looked around, he noticed it was mostly spartan and efficient, which he would expect.  The unexpected came with the little touches that clearly showed April lived her sometimes too.

Like the colorful bedspread showing the periodic table of elements that he had slept on last time, but hadn’t noticed.

“I’m in the diner mostly,” Luke responded.  He opened the fridge door before setting two beers, one at a time, on the table.  “I don’t usually lock up until 8 or 9, depending on business, and I have to be back up by 4 to get everything ready for breakfast.”

Chris wrinkled his nose.  “That schedule sounds awful, no offense.”

“Keeps me pretty busy.”  Luke sat down on the battered couch.  “Did I really break my hand because of a fight with Lorelai?”

“You’re just now asking this?”  Chris sat down beside him, knee bouncing a little to take the edge off his jittery nerves.  “The near three hour ER trip didn’t confirm that?”

Luke sighed.  “It’s just been a while since someone made me angry enough to punch them.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Chris pointed out, rubbing reflexively at his jaw.  “She can do that to people sometimes though.  There’s more of Emily in her than she’d like to admit.  Rory’s more like Richard.”

Luke nodded his agreement.  “I can see that.  It’s just so fucking maddening to invest all of this time and effort and emotions, and to have it just… _end_ , because she wants to throw the problem back at me.  Like I can help what kind of person Anna is.”

“April’s mom, right?”

“Yeah.  It’s not like I get along any better with her, especially after I sued for custody.  But I thought couples were supposed to make it work, no matter what.  Ups and downs happen, but you don’t let it drag you along with it.”

Chris rolled his shoulders in thought, because Luke seemed to be getting more and more miserable by the second.  “You can’t help what she decides to do, Luke.  Maybe you should take that weekend to yourself.  Like you said, it’s not like the diner can’t run without you.”

“Oh, no, I’d definitely close the diner for the weekend.  That was the pain talking when I said Cesar and Lane could run it,” Luke snorted, and pulled hard on the beer.  He looked at it as if he were wishing it was something stronger but (so far) unwilling to dig out the founder’s day punch again.  He wondered if he still had that bottle of whisky (or was it rum?) and if there were any cokes left in the fridge from the last time April had visited (though  naturally, he supposed he could simply bring up a couple of sodas from downstairs).

“They can’t be that bad; they’re still working here, aren’t they?” Chris asked.

“It’s not that they’re bad employees.  Running this place from open to close isn’t something I trust them with.  You know how it is, when you own your own business, it’s just easier to do it yourself than let someone else muck it up.”  Luke got up and started going through the cabinets before producing a half bottle of white rum.

“Sometimes I’m capable of doing that all on my own,” Chris muttered self-deprecatingly and eyed the rum with interest.  “In the mood for something harder, I take it?”

Luke shrugged.  “Maybe.”  He set it down on the coffee table.  “So how is this working, exactly?  You, me, the whole friend thing?”

“Hell if I know.”  Chris eyed the rum speculatively.  “Part of it’s just to see that confused “what the hell” look on Lore’s face.  That and you’re not that much of an asshole once you get to know you.”

“Yeah,” Luke scoffed.  “I’m much more of an asshole.  Just ask Lorelai.”  He flipped the TV on for background noise because it seemed too quiet in his apartment with the only sounds being his and Chris’s talking.  It seemed…more intimate than he had thought it would be when he invited Chris up.  A small part him didn’t hate it, and that part was throwing the rest of him into confusion.

“If I wanted to know what she thought, I’d ask her.  I’m pretty good at forming my own opinions,” Chris commented dryly.  “And my opinion is it’s not like I’ve got that many friends in my life, and I’m pretty sure you don’t either, not with that schedule.”

Luke considered it before admitting.  “Yeah, I kind of do the loner thing.”  He settled further back on the couch, crossing his legs at the ankle before rotating one.  “It’s going to snow.”

“It’s winter; that’s what it does.”  Chris gave a quiet sigh of speculation.  “But yeah.  I know.”

Luke picked up the remote and began flipping through channels until he settled on some reality show.  “Really?  They had to make another series about pregnant teenage girls?  No wonder Anna’s so protective.”

“Oh, we are _not_ watching this,” Chris groaned, and reached for the remote in Luke’s hand.

“You sure you don’t want to see our nation crash and burn as far as entertainment goes?” Luke asked, holding the remote out of Chris’s reach.

Chris leaned further to try and get to it.  “If I wanted to watch that, I’d watch politics.  Come on!”

Luke pulled it back more, so Chris teetered more to get to it before losing his balance all together and collapsing in to Luke’s lap with a grunt.

“Did you want to buy me dinner first?” Luke asked wryly.

Chris sat back up.  “Not funny.  Just change the channel, would you?”  His face felt hot as he sat back down, and he knew he couldn’t exactly blame it on the beer.  He did reach for the rum though.

Luke eyed him speculatively for a long moment before grabbing two glasses and bringing them back.  “To Lorelai.”  He raised his glass after Chris had poured.  “Without her, we might never have been friends.”

Chris tipped his glass against Luke’s and savored the burn of cheap rum down his throat as Luke finally changed the channel.  He immediately poured another, but didn’t drink it right away.  Whatever this was, he needed it under control before he did something stupid, or worse, before Luke found out, because if Luke found out, cast or no, he was going to beat the life out of Chris.

“You got quiet,” Luke mentioned.

Chris shook his head to clear it, and gave a faint smile.  “Just thinking.”

“About…?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Luke considered his rum for a minute.  “Hey, you’ve been listening to me bitch and whine all night.  Least I can do is repay the favor.”

“Just thinking how weird it is when things change in a way you weren’t expecting,” Chris responded and finally downed his second glass of rum.  He set the glass down harder than he meant to, and winced under Luke’s scrutinizing stare.  “Like you and me, you know?  I never would’ve thought in a million years that of all the people you could’ve gotten to take you to a hospital that I’d end up being the one to do it.  It’s just weird, I guess.”  He left out the unsettled feeling growing in his chest, warm and twisted around his ribs.  “I mean, no complaints.  Like I said, you’re not as much of an asshole when you’re not trying to punch the daylights out of me.”

Luke tossed back the rum.  “You sound delighted.”

“That’s not how I meant it,” Chris responded.  “Let’s just watch some TV; I’ll sleep over on that other bed again.”

Luke nodded, though he didn’t look ready to drop it.  “Whatever.  You wanna talk, you can talk.”  He turned the TV to a rerun of a baseball game.

Chris sighed and stared morosely into his empty glass, wondering if he should risk taking another.  He wasn’t feeling it that much yet, and so he went ahead and poured another, sipping at it instead of shooting it.  He watched Luke’s profile from the corner of his eye, and was fairly certain the man had looked at him at least twice, as if trying to figure out what was really bothering him.

It was a good thing, Chris thought, that Luke wasn’t a mind-reader, because otherwise, he was pretty sure he’d have one hell of a shiner right now instead of the closeness he saw in his mind.  Luke was sitting pretty close to him as it was, and he could feel the heat coming off of him in the chilly apartment.

Chris sighed and turned his attention back to the game.  He had just started to feel tired enough to go to bed when a sharpie marker landed in his lap.

Luke was going for casual, but the effect was ruined by the amused smile on his face.  “Want to sign it?”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone signing it,” Chris asked.

“I don’t want people _asking_ ; it’s annoying.  I’m asking you.”

Chris snorted and with a flourish, signed his name largely over the palm of Luke’s cast.  Luke must’ve been feeling the alcohol a little bit (Chris certainly knew he was) because he grabbed Chris’s hand and messily signed his name with his left hand.

“Eye for an eye,” Luke murmured and turned back to the game again.

Chris laughed as he stared at the loopy, childish handwriting.  “You only asked me to sign it so you could sign my hand, didn’t you?”

“And that’s permanent marker.  Good luck.”

“Gigi was three at some point; nail polish remover.”  He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to wash it off right away though, because as Lorelai had once said, Luke had a way of getting into your life and staying, not unlike a permanent marker.

XXXXX

It was nearly a week later when Chris got a text on his phone just as he was opening up his apartment door after work.  He was surprised to see it was from Luke’s number, and confused at what it said.

_LD: Turn around._

Chris looked out the window first, but then turned as the elevator opened with a ding.  Luke stood there, looking harried and slightly frustrated.  Chris wondered what had happened now, but Luke only sped forward.

“You’re not going to hit me, are you?” Chris asked, hands coming up in defense.

“What?  No, of course not.  Come on; we’re going fishing.  Pack a bag.”

Chris was about to protest when he thought better of it, because really, the only thing he’d been looking forward to this weekend was spending it alone in his apartment with the TV for company.  He opened his door and gestured Luke in.

“Sure.  Why not?”

Chris wondered what other things he’d end up saying “why not” to when it came to Luke since it seemed like that excuse came up a lot.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to reiterate, I apologize for my rather...passionate author's notes last time and hope it hasn't turned anyone off. Thank you again for reading, and I appreciate any and all visitors to the story.


	5. And With Every Touch, You Fixed Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Luke go fishing. They talk. Unsurprisingly, Luke wants things in the fridge a certain way, and surprisingly, Chris cooks. In the end, there's only one bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lord, folks; I am so sorry! I've been tweaking this chapter forever, and I got a little discouraged during the process after some...not-so-nice words on another fic site. But I'm trying not to let it get me down again and trying to just enjoy writing for the sake of writing.
> 
> Whew, okay. So I hope you enjoy the chapter and I'll try to be a little more prompt with the next one. It's mostly written; it just needs more polish and editing, and since I'm being a pretty good bit more picky ever since the mistake with Liz and Luke's ages, it's taking longer. Here's hoping the extra work is worth it!
> 
> Many many many thanks to the positive comments and kudos; they help so much! Thank you!

“So, fishing,” Chris asked once he was in Luke’s truck and watching him awkwardly handle the stick shift.

“Fishing,” Luke agreed.  “I need it.  I don’t really know exactly what you do for a living, but I bet you could use a weekend off too.”  He didn’t say further that things had gotten even more complicated with Lorelai and Anna, and that at this point, if he never saw either one of them again, it’d be too soon.  He also didn’t say what the little voice in the back of his head was saying—he missed Chris’s company.  “It’s the most relaxing thing a man can do.”

“It’s holding a pole over the water and waiting for the fish to bite,” Chris pointed out dryly.

“Don’t do that or we’re not gonna be friends,” Luke sniped back, but it was lacking any real heat.  “You brought your computer; you’ll find something to do.”

“Then why have me along at all?  Do you have a spot up there or something?”

Luke didn’t answer immediately, because he couldn’t think of _why_ exactly he had wanted Chris along, other than missing his company.  He usually valued his isolation completely on these trips, but this time, as he had been going down the busy highway, he had turned off unexpectedly when he knew Chris’s place was coming up, and…well, here they were.

“Yeah, I’ve got a cabin my dad left to me,” Luke said, deciding to simply ignore the first part of Chris’s questioning.  “And Lorelai decided to take it upon herself to try and talk with Anna again, and this time, it ended with both of them calling me to settle the fight, and it’s become a one or the other situation.”

Chris didn’t press about the first question.  “Lore’s gotta know that you’ll have to pick being a part of your daughter’s life over anything else.  I’ve been there; hell, I’ve blown it off before because Lore decided to simply take Rory and leave.  Ask me today though, and hands down, I’m always going to pick being a part of Rory’s life.”  He sighed, because the conversation was dredging up feelings that he didn’t want to come close to.  “Look, I wasn’t there for a lot of things; you know that.  And I won’t say that I wasn’t a little relieved when Lore took off with our kid.  But at the end of the day, at the end of _this_ day, I’ll take being a part of Rory’s life over anyone or anything else.”

Luke’s left hand tightened on the steering wheel, a muscle ticking away in his jaw.  “You’d think she’d know that, but no.  It doesn’t seem that way.”

Chris sighed and patted his shoulder, eyes darting down to the cast to view the new artwork and signatures.  “I see you’ve let people at that cast,” he said, trying to change the subject and hopefully push away the gloomy atmosphere in the truck.

“Yeah, I kind of had to.  I drew the line at Taylor though; that blowhard wouldn’t shut up once I said no about how I was publicly insulting the town selectman by not allowing his oh-so-majestic signature and crappy little picture on my cast.  At the end of the day, he probably would’ve written something about frequenting his businesses more.”

“That man really doesn’t know how annoying he is, does he?” Chris asked in amusement.

Luke shook his head.  “That man’s been a pain in my ass since I was a kid and will probably continue to be even when I’m dead, because he’s gonna outlive me just to piss me off.”

“Have you let someone draw over mine yet?” Chris wondered out loud, only to have Luke turn his hand over from the stick where Chris’s signature still lay, unblemished.  “I feel loved.  I will buy you dinner this time.”

Luke’s mouth went dry, and he immediately started coughing to moisten it.  Chris patted him on the back a few times.  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he choked out.  “Just wrong tube.”  He coughed one final time, but not before he saw with watery eyes the faint black marks of handwriting still on Chris’s palm.  He smiled, which made him feel only a little stupid, and turned his eyes back to the road.

XXXXX

“No, you don’t get it, Mom…it’s _over_ over,” Lorelai groaned into the phone.  Well, more into her pillow than the phone.  “Over like he was finally able to quit me, over like I got on the plane, over like—“

“I get it, Lorelai; _honestly_.  Well, what happened?” Emily said peevishly into the phone receiver.  “You two seemed like you were finally on board this time.”

“April’s mom happened.”

“Oh, for pete’s sake.  Are you really going to let that woman come between the two of you?  He’ll just have to accept it if April can’t come.  Isn’t she old enough to be making that decision for herself?”

“You’d think so,” Lorelai muttered.  “But no, apparently, 18 is not old enough to decide if you want to go to your father’s wedding without adult supervision, because apparently, April is only six in dog years!”

“Dog years?  What does that have to do with it?”

Lorelai stroked Paul Anka’s fur soothingly.  “Just…I don’t know.  Mom, I don’t know what to do.  I gave him an ultimatum—Anna or me.”

Emily frowned.  “Far be it for me to pass judgment on your decisions, Lorelai…”

“Please, Mom; you’ve done that all my life,” Lorelai grumbled into the phone.  “Why stop now?”

“You could start by taking your face away from the pillow!  It sounds like you’re under water.”

Lorelai lifted her head up and turned on her back.  “Fine, pass your judgment, o ye of judgment passing.  Where were you when Sarah Connor was facing judgment day?”

Emily shook her head in frustration at the reference, but moved forward.  “I don’t want to sound callous, but don’t you think that a decision like that may be easier for Luke than you think?  What happened the last time someone asked you to choose between Chris and someone else?  And honestly, it’s not so much about Anna as it is about _April_.”

“Well, of course I have to pick Chris; he’s Rory’s father! I can’t take away his decision to be in her life.  But this woman has done nothing but keep April away from Luke most of her life, and now she’s butting into this too!  It’s like she can’t stand to see him happy with someone else.”

Emily sighed, because it seemed Lorelai had missed her point entirely.  “Lorelai,” she continued gently.  “Don’t you think he feels the same way since Anna is the mother of his child?”

“I’m trying to make this work, I really am!  But it’s like trying to slingshot raw pancakes with a worn out bra.”  Lorelai ran a hand through her hair.  “And it’s not getting any easier.  No one’s budging, there’s no wiggle room!  There’s _always_ supposed to be wiggle room!  And now he’s taken off fishing for the weekend so I can’t even try and talk to him about it more!”

“Maybe talking isn’t what you two need right now,” Emily advised archly.  “You two have spent such a long time trying to be together, that now that you are, you never stopped to wonder if it was what either of you really wanted.”

Lorelai sat up angrily.  “What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean, Mom?”

“It means that you’ve both built this up in your heads so much, that neither of you seem aware of what a real relationship with each other would even be.  The last time you two were together ended badly too, you know.”

Lorelai rolled her eyes.  “Not helping, Mom.  You _did_ help with that.”

“I just want you to be happy,” Emily pointed out, hoping she still had a little gentleness in her tone.  “And right now, you’ve been miserable ever since you started planning the wedding.  I’m just wondering if there isn’t a reason for it.”

Lorelai sighed.  “Maybe.”  She rolled back on her stomach again, prompting Paul Anka to crawl onto the small of her back and flop down.  “I just wish I knew the answer.”

“The answer isn’t always obvious.  Have you tried talking to Anna?”

Lorelai snorted.  “Yeah, that went over well.  I think she might have wanted to see Hitler rise again more than me.”

“Oh, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

Lorelai shifted.  “If by not bad, you mean I may have told her to cut the damn cord already.”

“ _Lorelai_!” Emily snapped in a scandalized tone.  “As protective as you are of Rory, I would think you’d understand her trepidation.  Not to mention I would have thought you would understand more about Luke’s relationship with her, considering how close you and Chris are.”  She sighed, trying to gather her patience and keep the cautious care in her tone.  “I really don’t think you’re seeing that it’s more about April than it is about choosing between you and Anna, just as you know it isn’t so much to do with Chris as it would be how it would impact Rory’s life.”

“Chris can go jump off a damn cliff for all I care right now,” Lorelai grumbled, and soon wished she hadn’t, because she could practically hear the gears turning in her mother’s head.

“What’s going on between you two?  I thought that largely, you were getting along so well.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lorelai huffed and sat up.  “Listen, maybe at Friday night dinner, okay?  I’m nearly talked-out as it is.”

“Well, if you’re sure.  You’re always welcome to come over anytime you like, you know.  Have some tea, talk with me and your father.”

“I know, Mom, and I appreciate it,” Lorelai said sincerely.  “I’m just tired of trying to make everything work and feeling attacked every time it gets brought back up.  Maybe Luke being away this weekend is a good thing.”

“I know!” Emily crowed.  “Why don’t you and I take a ladies’ weekend?  You could invite Rory if you like.”

“No good, she’s covering a rally or a protest in New York; can’t remember which.  But I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Let me know soon, yes?”

“I will, Mom.  I’m going to say bye now, maybe take a long hot bath and try and forget a lot of things.”  Lorelai sighed as her mother drew it out, and finally, ten minutes later, she hung up the phone.  She picked up her cell, firing off a quick text to Rory to make sure she really was busy that weekend, and looked at Luke’s contact thoughtfully.

She finally sent something through, and debated calling Sookie over for a girl’s night in with a good bottle of wine.

XXXXX

Luke remembered barely ten minutes from the cabin that there was only one bed.  It was a big one, sure, but still only one.  He swallowed hard against the nervous lump in his throat that had come from nowhere.  He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but was unable to reach for it.

“Get my phone out of shirt pocket?” Luke asked, eyes on the road and trying not to think about the one bed situation.  They would deal with it when the time came.

Chris reached over casually without a hint of insecurity at the closeness, and pulled the vibrating phone out.  He looked at it briefly.  “It’s a text from Lorelai.”

“Ignore it.  I knew I should’ve left the damn thing at home.”  Luke jumped as Chris reached back over and put it back.

“Little jittery?” Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just all this crap with Lorelai.  Like I said, I’m tired of it; I just want to fix things and go back to everyone being happy.”

The road grew bumpy as the pavement gave way to dirt.  Chris surveyed their surroundings with an appreciative eye.  “It’s beautiful out there.  I can see why you’d come here to relax.”

“I survived before a cell phone and the internet, I can do it well enough now,” Luke replied conversationally.  “Kids these days don’t know.  Most parents just shove an iPad in their hands and walk away, and then wonder why kids aren’t playing outside anymore.  For christ’s sake, I drank out of a water hose and I lived.”

“If we’d had a water hose my mother would let me near, I’m sure she’d have been properly shocked at the idea of drinking out of it,” Chris said with a dry tone of voice.  “She was always fascinated and then scandalized at the thought of what lower class kids did, as opposed to the things she expected me to do.  Led to a lot of going over to other friends’ houses until she realized I was hanging out with “ruffians” and she put a stop to it.”

Luke frowned.  “That…sounds bizarre.  How exactly did she put a stop to it?”

Chris snorted at the memory.  “She hired a driver to literally take me to school and then home, and he was given a list of pre-approved friends from my parents that I was allowed to see.”

“And Lorelai thinks Anna’s bad.”

Chris shrugged.  “It’s not like I wanted for friends, but the kind of friends I had are the ones you schmooze with.  I wouldn’t call them real friends.  Digger was probably the closest I could think of, but even he was a pretentious little snot.  I guess it’s why I liked Lorelai so much—she had a way of being free and wild about things that practically shed off the layers of etiquette and money that I always admired.”

“She’s a pretty free spirit.  I just don’t think I’m the one to tame it,” Luke responded and pulled into the driveway of the weathered cabin.

“There’s no taming someone like that.”  Chris grabbed his duffel from the back of the truck and grabbed some of the other fishing gear since Luke was still down to one hand for gripping.  “Which is probably the issue most guys have with her.”

They entered the cabin and put things down before going around and opening windows to let the musty air flow out.  Sunlight spilled into the living room and kitchen, the cool air from outside sucking the staleness away.  There were small motes of dust floating around in the sunshine, showing how much time had passed since Luke had been here.  The place was definitely lived in though, an old jacket slung over the back of a couch more battered and saggy than the one at Luke’s apartment.  The electricity had been kept running, though it wasn’t needed with the extra light from outside, and there was an ancient kerosene heater in the corner.  The fireplace was sooty, but there was firewood beside of it, ready to go.

“Nice place,” Chris remarked as Luke began putting things into the fridge.  He felt bad when he saw Luke fumbling for things, and walked over to help.

“I got it,” Luke said tightly.

“Dude, you’re trying to put everything in, one at a time, with one hand; let me help.”  Chris picked up some of the groceries and slid past Luke to put them in the fridge.

“No, not there,” Luke said and snatched one item away.  “I like to know where everything’s at since I’ll be the one cooking.”

Chris held his arms up as Luke moved quickly, snatching the other item Chris had put in and moving it to a different spot.  “Picky.”

“I like knowing where things are.”

“You could always let me cook, you know,” Chris pointed out absently, and resorted to simply handing things over.  Their fingertips brushed every so often, though neither pointed it out.  “I’m not bad at it.”

“I run a restaurant; I’ll do the cooking.”

With a roll of his eyes, Chris handed him the last couple of items.  “I was a professional bachelor for a very long time; I know how to make a thing or two.”

“If it’s microwaveable, you’re out of luck.”

“What makes you think I can’t cook?”  He took the offered bottle of water.

“I don’t know, you just don’t seem like the type of guy to…well, _cook_ ,” Luke replied with no small amount of confusion.  “No offense.”

“Then let me cook tonight; I promise, you won’t regret it.”

Luke looked thoughtful and skeptical at the same time, banging his cast lightly against his hip.  “Sure.  I can always make something else as a back-up.”

Chris laughed.  “Come on, don’t do that.  It’ll be great.”  He gestured to Luke’s wrist.  “How’s the hand?”

“Itchy as hell,” Luke muttered honestly, and headed for the front door.  “Fish won’t be biting that well right now, so if you wanted to do whatever work it is you do on your computer, I’m just going to take a walk.”

Chris nodded briefly.  “Unless you want to show me around.  You know, me being a city boy and all that can’t cook, I might take a step from the front door and suddenly Opie my way into a bear trap.”

Luke stared at him for a moment before bursting into low chuckles.  “Lorelai never said you were funny.”

Chris snorted.  “Lore probably never said a lot of things about me, at least, not things you can say in polite company.”

“Like she’s ever let that stop her.”  Luke opened the front door.  “You coming or not?”

“Sure.”  Chris followed him out the door.  “Lead the way then.”

“Stay close,” Luke mused, clapping a hand on Chris’s shoulder and squeezing.  “Wouldn’t want Opie to lose his way.”  He moved forward on a well-beaten path.

Chris shot a crooked grin his way.

XXXXX

The sun was hanging low by the time they had come back to the cabin, dusk turning the sky purple and orange.  There were heavy clouds on the horizon and the air had grown chilly enough that Luke built a fire while Chris busied himself in the kitchen.

Luke threw another log on the fire as the kindling caught and he stuck more newspaper between the two beneath it.  He sniffed the air curiously as the familiar sounds of cooking filled the air and Chris began humming along with whatever was playing in the kitchen.  Luke frowned because he wasn’t sure if he even had a radio here, and then realized Chris must be playing something on his phone.

And it sounded a hell of a lot like Twisted Sister.

Luke felt his mouth twitch in a smile of approval before he got up, rubbing his hands together to shake the dust and ash from them.  He walked into the kitchen where Chris was working at the stove, his phone playing music, muffled by being in his back pocket.

“Smells good,” Luke mentioned casually, and started to peer over Chris’s shoulder.

“Hey, spoilers,” Chris pointed out, moving his shoulder to block Luke’s view.  “You’ll just have to be surprised.”

“Oh, come on; I can smell garlic.”

“Then you already know too much.  If you see anything else, I’ll have to kill you,” Chris replied with a grin that did funny things to Luke’s gut.

Luke rolled his eyes and ignored him, creeping closer until he was practically chest to back in his attempt to look at what Chris was cooking.  He caught glimpses of chicken and tomato sauce with asparagus simmering in a pan before Chris shoved back none-too-gently.  Luke let out a whoosh of air, trying not to lose his balance when his hands landed on Chris’s hips before he fell backward, the thumb of his right hand slipping past the edge of the long-sleeved shirt Chris wore, his cast catching on the fabric.

“Want to dance?” Chris asked casually as Luke backed off almost immediately, face redder than the sauce he had caught a glimpse of.

Luke snorted, but it sounded off and funny, and he flexed his fingers that weren’t in a cast because they felt odd and sensitive.  “I don’t dance.”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that.  I saw those pictures of your sister’s wedding.  What’s her name, Elizabeth?”

Luke nodded.  “Liz, yeah.  She and TJ got married a while back; they’ve got a kid, little younger than yours, I think.  Her name’s Doula.”

Chris turned, temporarily forgetting about the fact he had been trying to hide what he was cooking.  “Doula?  They named her after a midwife?”

“Well, Liz had heard the word and thought it was cool, and I’m guessing she thought the word sounded cool enough to be a hip baby name of some kind reminiscent of the 70’s, and so far as Liz is concerned, if it’s tie-dyed, reeking of pot, or covered in flowers, then it’s _rad_.”

Chris laughed, though it was obvious he was trying to hold back.  “That trippy, huh?”

“Yeah.  Never boring though,” Luke agreed, and went to grab plates.  “Almost ready?”

“Just about,” Chris replied, and bent over to open the oven door to pull out garlic bread.  “You ready to try amazing cooking that isn’t yours or Sookie’s?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Luke asked blandly as Chris took the offered plates to begin putting food on it.

“I think it’s gonna blow your mind,” Chris said with the same lopsided grin that Luke was starting to hate (or get fond of, depending on his mood) because now, it reminded him of feeling the twist of skin beneath his left hand.

XXXXX

“Okay, so, I’m man enough to admit when I’m wrong,” Luke said as he stacked dishes.  “That was better than I thought.”

“You flatter, good sir,” Chris responded as he took the dishes to the sink.  “I’ll wash, you dry?”

Luke nodded.  “Sounds good.”

They worked mostly in silence, Chris washing and passing to Luke, who awkwardly worked around the cast to dry and put away.

“So, I probably should’ve said something sooner,” Luke said uneasily, rubbing his cast over his neck and wincing at the rough material and his irritation at having forgotten it was there again.  “But since I didn’t, I just wanted to let you know that I’d take the couch since there’s only one bed.  We can switch off tomorrow if you want, but I’ll take it tonight.”

Chris stopped washing briefly before resuming.  He seemed thoughtful though, but said nothing.  He handed off the last few plates in silence, drying his hands on the towel hanging on the oven handle.  “You know, that couch looks worse than the one in your apartment; I don’t mind taking it.”

Luke sighed, a touch of frustration entering the tone of it.  “It’s no problem.  I’m the one that kidnapped you for the weekend and didn’t think.  It’s really no big deal.”

“I can pretty much guarantee that I’ll be up later than you will, _and_ complain more when you come waking me up at the crack of dawn—“

“Earlier,” Luke pointed out.  “Which is all the more reason I—“

Chris cut him off.  “Earlier than the crack of dawn, fine, but I’m going to be up later and complain more about it in the morning.  So I’ll either take the couch, or, if it’s big enough, we’ll just share and I’ll be there later.”

Luke swallowed.  “Well, it’s big; my dad was a big guy, but seriously, I’ll take the couch.”

“You heard my offer, take it or leave it.  If you end up taking the couch, I’ll take the floor out of spite,” Chris replied defiantly.  “Look, I went to boarding schools; I really don’t care.  But honestly, we’ll both sleep better for it.”

Luke sighed, rapping his cast on his hip as a rare show of anxiety for something he either couldn’t or didn’t want to define.  “…Fine.”  He started heading for the bedroom to grab a shower before bed before he turned his head to ask a question over his shoulder.  “You don’t wet the bed, do you?”

Chris snorted.  “Been vinyl-sheet free since the Reagan Administration.  You don’t kick, do you?”

Luke rolled his eyes.  “Only when I’m threatened.”

XXXXX

Chris gave it a couple of hours (in which he did actually fire off a few e-mails and scan through some documents sent, all using a mobile hot-spot plugged into his computer), and, making sure the fire had died down enough to be safe, he walked quietly to the bedroom, shoes left by the battered couch that looked like it would make his back feel like Gigi had stomped on it several times in the morning.  He was confident enough in himself to know why he had pushed for sharing a bed, but he wasn’t sure what, exactly, he thought would come of it.

Instead, he entered the dark bedroom in silence, finding his way by the soft moonlight shining through the windows.  He swore to himself when he remembered his duffel was still out in the living room, and he trod back out quickly to pull out a pair of flannel pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt to wear to bed.  He changed in the living room to avoid any unnecessary noise in the bedroom.

Now barefoot and dressed for sleep, Chris padded back to the room, and looked at the bed for a long moment of caution.  Even though he’d practically fought Luke on this, he wasn’t sure of the follow-through.  He approached the bed, and gently pulled the thick blanket and sheet back.  He slid between them and the fitted sheet, trying hard not to feel the warmth radiating from Luke, who slept soundly enough on the other side.

The bed was big enough that it didn’t take much doing to not be near Luke, and Chris curled around his pillow and a bundle of blanket clutched between his fists and his chest.  It was an old childhood habit after his father had thrown away a blanket when he’d been 10 and his father had decided that was too old to have a lifelong blanket.  He faced away from Luke, going for polite space in between them without feeling like he was about to fall off the bed.

Sleep didn’t come easy, but the whisper of the cold wind outside ruffling the leaves combined with the silver-blue of moonlight eventually lulled him to a restless slumber, one only made easier by the steady breathing and solid heat behind him.

XXXXXXXXXX


	6. Now You've Been Talking In Your Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke and Chris go fishing. They argue. In the end, Chris feels like he doesn't want to leave, he should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, so many thanks to my beta, LegacySoulReaver (aka LSR) for the notes and comments on subtle tweaks before I could post. For the Luke/Chris fans still with me, I hope you enjoy and thanks for sticking with me!

Over the course of his life, Luke had always been an early riser.  And whether it was fishing or opening the diner, he tended to be up around 3:30, regardless of the time he had gone to bed the night before.  He woke slower than usual, the cold biting sharply at his ears as he remembered a couple of windows they possibly forgot to close before bed (well, that he had forgotten about and Chris probably hadn’t thought about).

He burrowed beneath the heavy quilt on the bed, groggily drawing closer to the other source of heat in the bed and wrapping an arm around it.  He sleepily murmured something into the space between the two pillows, though he thought he felt the other person go stiff.

“Fishin’ in half’n hour; g’back t’sleep,” he grunted, and didn’t think about it again as he drifted off.

Chris sighed heavily in the bed.  As grateful as he was for the warmth, he didn’t think sleep was on his agenda again, even as the lull of heat and a heavy arm slung over his hips drew him closer to it.  He peered owlishly out the window where the moonlight had shifted and resolutely slammed his eyes shut.  He would _not_ be the one to interrupt this, not this time.  For all the things Chris knew he had fucked up in his life (some beyond not only recognition, but beyond redemption), this would not be something he ruined.

He would _not_ screw this up.

Chris hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Luke’s reply came against his neck, warm breath and frustrated tones raising the hair on the nape.

“You won’t screw it up if you go back to _sleep_.”

Chris grinned, though he knew Luke couldn’t see it, and tried his best to simply relax.  It was clear that Luke was practically a different person (though still gruff) when barely awake, but who was Chris to argue against more sleep?

He didn’t sleep more though, content to rest under the weight of Luke’s arm before Luke slowly woke, stiffened behind him, and carefully crept out of the bed.

The smell of coffee hit him before he heard Luke’s footsteps coming back toward the room, and he sat up in the bed as Luke opened the door, light from the kitchen flooding in at an angle that made Chris’s eyes hurt.

“Coffee’s on,” Luke said.  “If you’re ready to get up.”

“You know, I might make you go golfing again, because at least that’s done at a godly hour,” Chris groused back, but there was no venom backing it.  He hoped he mostly just sounded tired, because he wanted ( _needed_ ) to cover up the questions he had, not the very least which was “Come back to bed”.

Instead, he got up and hissed when his feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and he darted past Luke to grab his duffel and snag the cup of coffee from Luke on his way back to the fading heat of the bed.

Luke raised an eyebrow.  “Lorelai never said you were a runner.”

“I’m not.”  Chris quickly slid thick socks over his bare feet.  “But I was never a smart boy either, and hated wearing socks to bed.  That floor is like ice.”  He blew on the coffee quickly before taking it in.  “You talk in your sleep.”

Luke looked confused, maybe a little uncertain.  Chris didn’t think it could be fear, could it?  “Oh yeah?  What’d I say?” he asked, but the casualty he seemed to be going for wasn’t there.

“Something about sleep,” Chris responded honestly and, deciding to hell with it, pulled out the cold-weather clothes he had known he was going to need for this time of year for a fishing trip before stripping his shirt off and reaching for the waist of his pajama pants.

Luke made a funny sort of choking sound and slammed the door shut unintentionally.  “Warn a guy next time!”

“Yeah, that’ll be the day,” Chris muttered, and decided once the weekend was over, he might take a day or two of his own with a good single malt so he could sit down and piece out _how_ , exactly, he’d gone from a card-carrying member of the “Straights-R-Us” club to spending all his time with his ex-wife’s fiancé (if they were still going through with it) and only wanting more.

Luke waited outside the door, sipping at his coffee to get a hold of himself.  It wasn’t enough that he had woken curled around Chris, the faint memory of doing so in the first place lingering in his mind like a wisp of smoke that the harder he tried for, the more it slipped away.  It wasn’t enough that he had actually considered “oversleeping” again, and just winding closer to the other man.

Seeing Chris start to unabashedly strip his shirt off, even in the cold of the room… _that_ was the line he needed right now.

Luke rested the cast on his hand against his stomach, willing the near burn of coffee scalding his tongue to get himself under control.  Maybe this had been a bad idea.  Okay, so maybe this had been a _terrible_ idea.

The last time he’d talked in his sleep was with Lorelai, and he didn’t want to examine the implications of it too closely.  But just like the quiet, determined whisper of Chris insisting he wouldn’t ruin this, he wasn’t going to ruin the weekend either.  After all, he had invited Chris along, and it would be pretty crappy of him to start being an ass now.

Luke hadn’t realized Chris had exited the room though until he felt the weight of his stare.  Chris was dressed appropriately enough, if a little bundled, though Luke couldn’t say he blamed him.  It was downright cold outside, and he was sorely tempted to can the trip all together.  He liked to fish; he didn’t care for ice-fishing, and it was just the time of year for it to start the transition.

Chris ambled alongside him in silence, either from tiredness or appreciation for the odd mood of the morning.

Luke didn’t realize how grateful he was until he was giving Chris a hand into the boat (albeit with his left), and the touch lingered a hair longer than it should have until Chris plunked down gracelessly, wincing as the boat rocked dangerously.

“You tip this boat over, I’ll never forgive you,” Luke said in all sincerity.

Chris looked at the water with trepidation.  “Yeah, I’d have to be crazy to do it on purpose.  Sometimes, the boat just gets rocked.”

“You can say that again,” Luke muttered, and rowed the boat out without another word, because he was certain Chris had heard him and was sending another lopsided smile his way.

XXXXX

By midday, the weird mood had lifted though, and Luke was muttering again as he rowed them back to the dock.  “Beginner’s luck.”

Chris looked smug and proud.  “I never said I was a beginner.”

“Yeah, but you said you hadn’t fished recently.”

“And I haven’t,” Chris replied honestly, but there was something behind it that made Luke stare at him for a long moment, as if trying to decipher the puzzle and secret before Chris could even _think_ about crowing over it.

It clicked, just the tiniest bit, some tidbit Lorelai had been talking about during Thanksgiving when the Dragonfly had hosted Liz’s Ren-Faire group.  Something about a grandfather, that Chris was paying for Yale…

Luke sat back in the boat, arms crossed.  “Your grandfather fished.  A _lot_ , I’m guessing.”

“Spent at least a couple of weeks at the beginning and end of just about every summer with the man.”

“Christ, you couldn’t have just _said_ that?”

“And miss this moment?” Chris asked with a grin that made Luke either want to push him in the lake or do something stupid, like _kiss the fucking grin off his face_ that would probably have Luke in the water instead, and Luke _really_ shouldn’t have invited Chris along for a weekend of what had been planned as alone but instead was turning into a bad rom-com.

The wind blew sharply past, and Luke glared in Chris’s general direction.  “You’re a dick, I hope you live with that.”

“Are you going to sulk in that boat all day?” Chris asked, offering a hand down to Luke.

Luke very nearly admitted he was considering it before he took Chris’s hand and got out of the boat, holding on a second longer than was strictly necessary, even though they both wore fingerless gloves.  “Did you have to release it though?  That trout was _huge_.”

Chris shrugged.  “I catch and release, just like Grampa.  Sorry, man.”

“What a waste,” Luke sighed as he pulled the cooler out first and then the tackle box.  He handed the former to Chris so he could juggle the rods until Chris defiantly took them without asking.

“You’ll poke your eye out.  Is it so hard to ask for help?”

“Sometimes,” Luke replied absently before letting go of the poles.  “Let’s just get _my_ catch of the day in since I was man enough to keep it.”

“Manliness has nothing to do with it,” Chris pointed out delicately, though he sounded a bit hurt.  “And I’ve still got photo evidence showing what _my_ manliness caught.”

Luke groaned.  “You’re going to be like this the rest of the day, aren’t you?”

“Like what?”

“An insufferable punk?”

Chris shrugged.  “I thought about milking it for a while.  Seemed to work well for Judd Nelson.”

Luke didn’t bother to ask as they trudged back to the cabin, depositing soggy boots beside of the door and entering the kitchen to put the fish on ice.

XXXXX

After an early dinner (by Chris’s standards), they sat in front of the fire, drinking cold beer from the cooler.

Luke looked thoughtful.  “So, I was thinking about that crack you took earlier about fishing being at an ungodly hour.”

“As I recall, I threatened to make you go golfing again.”

“Yeah, see, that’s the thing,” Luke replied.  “It starts at a regular time of day, but the drinking sure as hell doesn’t.  I don’t know what Lorelai told you about that, but I ended up sweating out three different liquors in a sauna with a bunch of naked old guys who gossip more than Crazy Carrie with a gallon of water in my hands.”

“Did you really bring that up so you could make that comeback?”

“You’re not disputing the point though,” Luke said humorously enough.  “You don’t really seem the golfing type anyway.  An early drink, maybe.  I mean, jeez, I’ve seen Emily Gilmore slightly buzzed before the end of lunch before.”

“Oh, the stories I could tell you about the D.A.R. banquets my mother made me go to,” Chris reminisced.

Luke made a frustrated grunt.  “Okay, for the last time…what the hell is the D.A.R.?”

Chris raised an eyebrow.  “Sounds like you’ve asked this before, but it’s gone unanswered.”

“I try to ask!  Every time I do, someone starts laughing, and then it gets bantered around as the best joke ever; what the hell am I missing?”

Chris nodded sagely, beer moving with his hand.  “See, in _that_ world, D.A.R. is not unlike becoming your own walking, talking, functioning pedigree.  Anyone who’s anyone in Emily’s world is a member.”

Luke rubbed a hand over his face, trying to summon the patience to _not_ snap.  “Okay, I get that.  What the hell does it even _stand for_?”

Chris laughed, but immediately regretted it when Luke’s face immediately shut down in a way that had his stomach clenching.  “No, I didn’t mean it like they did.  And who cares, they’re a bunch of old bats with more money and time than sense.  It stands for Daughters of the American Revolution.  All of the members can trace their family history back to a patriot in the Revolutionary War.”

Luke spread his arms out as he got up to pace restlessly.  “See, why couldn’t you just say _that_?  I’m not an idiot, and I’m not a sideshow.”

Chris got up, hand raised in an effort to calm.  “I didn’t say or think you were either.  The laugh was because those ladies are so wrapped up in their own world that they couldn’t conceive of someone who doesn’t give a shit about their bloodlines.  It’s about one step away from eugenics when it comes to people like that.”

Luke held his casted hand out to stave off a nearing Chris.  “Look, it’s just…god, every time I ask someone from _your_ little world a simple question, it’s like I’m either telling the biggest joke _ever_ that I don’t get, or it’s just somehow awesome to watch some peasant meander around high society.  I’m not ignorant.”

“And I didn’t say you _were_ ; you’re putting words into my mouth when you’re really just angry at _them_.”  Chris ran a hand over his cropped hair in an effort to focus his thoughts.  “You need to understand something, Luke…a lot of us don’t _want_ that world.  Hell, I spent damn near 16 years roaming around the west coast trying to find any way I could _around_ that life, and then another eight years of finding a way to at least tread it carefully without getting Gigi too wrapped up in it.  I don’t want that crap for her, Sherry does because she never had it.  I don’t want her pulling out old family trees just so she can be a member of something that’s going to put her up like a broodmare.”

“You still got opportunities that no one else got except for those in your precious little group.”  Luke glared at him.  “You think I could’ve done things like roam the country?  No, I had responsibilities.  I had a sister with an alcohol problem.  I had an uncle everyone hated.  I had a dad who shut the world out and worked his ass off to provide, and I worked my ass off just as much so I could take it over.”

Chris tilted his head.  “But no one _asked_ you to do that; people just _expected_ you would.  You had a choice.”

“I had to!  It’s called obligation, Chris!  What do you think that “never give up on being in Rory’s life” feeling is that you get sometimes?  No one’s asking you to be a part of her life; it’s your responsibility.”

“Expectations differ from obligations.  Obligations are when Emily and Richard and my parents thought Lorelai and I should marry and I would take care of them as a family.  Expectations were that we would obediently follow through with their _plan_.  Obligations were obediently trying out college for my dad until I couldn’t take the sight of him every morning anymore and I took off.  Expectations are that I’d come back around and follow _his plan_ eventually.  Yeah, I’m a bad person.  But I’m not sitting around, blaming everyone around me for being a fuck-up that needs taking care of!  What about you, Luke?” Chris said just as poignantly.  “What about _your_ life?  Your wants, your needs?  When does it stop being you being a good guy and taking care of everything, and you sacrificing your own life because you’re afraid to live it as anything other than a martyr?”

Luke whirled, only to find Chris closer than he had expected.  “What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Chris stared at him stubbornly, hazel eyes shifting in the light of the fire and the smell of beer light on his skin.  “You know what it means.  When do you stop taking care of people at the expense of living your own life?”

“I’m not afraid to live my life,” Luke snapped, but it sounded weaker than he had meant it to because it had struck the same nerve Liz had hit years ago.  “I just don’t abandon people because I can’t take the sight of them anymore.”

Chris’s frown was thunderous at the parroting of his own words.  “You don’t know shit about me or my family.  Don’t pretend that all us little rich kids are the same, opportunities handed to us on a golden platter.  Some of us step _in_ and take it from our parents because they would rather be successful out the door instead of working for it.  Others, like Lore and I, decided to take it for ourselves.”  Chris stared viciously at Luke before continuing.  “And don’t pretend that’s not what Lore did when she took Rory off to Stars Hollow.”

“You don’t know anything about people abandoning others,” Luke responded vehemently even as Jess’s beaten, insecure glares popped up into his head.  “You haven’t had to explain to a 17-year-old kid why his mother is too busy caring too much about her own flaky life to give a shit about him that she has to send him to some random relative in the country like he’s a lost cause.”

Chris glared right back at Luke, almost nose-to-nose with him.  “You haven’t had a five-year-old crying in your lap about why her mommy thinks Europe is more interesting than her.”

“No, but I’ve seen a woman tell a 16-year-old not to get her hopes up because her father isn’t stable enough in his own life for her to think he’ll be there.”

The tension vibrated hotly as Luke clenched his good fist, because if this was going down in a fight, he was damn well going to go down swinging.  And at least he hadn’t lied to Chris—Chris hadn’t ruined it; Luke had.

All the more reason why Luke knew he had it coming when Chris’s fingers clenched out of defense.

“You want to do this dance again?” Luke asked threateningly.  “My right fist down or not, I can still take you.”

The anger grew tighter, the frustration practically seeping the warmth from the room, serving only to remind Luke of this morning, how that shouldn’t have happened (no matter how much he had been okay with it), how this _weekend_ shouldn’t have happened; how if he had just taken his fishing trip alone, he wouldn’t be here right now with Chris staring at him like he just wanted Luke to _get_ it, get _something_ , and Luke had no idea what.

Chris stepped closer suddenly, hands coming up fast enough that Luke gripped at Chris’s waist in case he needed to trip him up with a foot behind his ankle.  But even through the harsh breathing, the speeding up of his heartbeat, and the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, Luke had an idea that planning to trip Chris wasn’t the action he thought was going to happen.

The taught frustration of the room shattered when Chris abruptly grabbed Luke’s shoulders and kissed him.

For a strange, disconnected moment, Luke was certain he might actually pass out.  The situation was first surreal, then real, and back to uncertain again, right up until his fingers tightened on Chris’s hips, and just after he gave in and kissed back.

The fire crackled sharply as Luke felt Chris’s fingers tighten on his shoulders and one of Luke’s hands slipped forward, the rough material of his cast sliding up the middle of Chris’s back.  It was when Luke let out an involuntary grunt of satisfaction that it was Chris who haltingly pulled away, taking a couple of steps back.

Luke, for his part, felt like he’d been hit by a freight train.  The swirl of words from their fight mixed up and jumbled into his head until the only word he could feel was _expectation_ , how it was different than obligations and responsibilities, and yeah, maybe he could see what Chris had been yelling about.  All of that was very hard to parse through though, because all Luke wanted to do was pull Chris back.

Chris had put a distance between them though, and Luke felt, ironically, obligated to hold it.  “What the hell are we doing?  I’m _straight_.”  His hands twitched funnily at his sides, something that make Luke’s fingers itch worse than his cast to still them.

“You think I’m not?  _You_ kissed _me_.  Are you drunk?” Luke asked honestly with a hint of bewilderment.

Chris shook his head.  “Not enough.”  He stared at Luke witheringly, as if the fight had bled out into the kiss and all that was left was hurt exhaustion.  There was a curiosity there though, something not unlike a hope.  He looked as if there were a question on his lips, and Luke had an idea of what it was, but didn’t want to break the fragile truce that hung like cobwebs between them, just waiting to be batted out of the way in fury.

Luke sighed, pulling his cap off in a habitual movement of nerves, tossing it back to the couch.  He eyed Chris warily, mostly because the other man looked like a deer in the headlights.  Treating the situation as such, Luke approached him carefully, deciding that everything was inherently risky, and this was no different.

It was either a black eye, or something that he maybe should have seen coming.  Either way, he had to know.

“You’re not going to hit me, are you?” Luke asked dryly.

Chris looked up at him when he got close, since Luke had a couple of inches on him.  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

Luke decided sometimes risks were worth it, and gave back in to the broken tension as he leaned down and kissed him again, a rush of warmth and pleasure shooting down his throat where it settled deep in the pit of his stomach.  It only intensified when Chris’s hands shakily grabbed at the sides of his flannel shirt, fingers digging into the skin beneath it.  Luke’s cast ended up rapping the wood behind Chris, but neither man seemed to care, not until a tentative hand reached Luke’s hair and they both pulled back hard again.

The only sound for a few long minutes was the sound of their heavy breathing and the dying crackling of the fire.  Neither made eye contact during that time, unsure of what would show in the other’s face.

Luke sighed, breaking the silence first.  “So…I’m…going to go to bed,” he said in a stilted voice.  Christ, he felt awkward now, unsure of how to even process _any_ of this, let alone the growing arousal that alerted him that perhaps yes, he should have seen this coming.

Chris nodded; he didn’t seem entirely alert of the situation, his eyes staring resolutely down.  “I’ll take the couch,” he said absently, but there was a definite tone of resignation to his voice.

Luke rolled his eyes, because that made him feel guilty, and he didn’t want any unnecessary feelings clouding up what was already turning out to be a confusing night.  “Don’t be a martyr.”

“It’s only martyrdom when the people worship you for it.”

“Then don’t be noble.”  Luke tried for a hesitant, weak smile that came out as the barest twitch of the lips.  “I didn’t start this because I thought you were noble.”

“Whatever will I do with my knight’s armor now?” Chris muttered, still heading for the couch.

Luke caught him by the shoulder.  “Well, give it to me, and then I’m going to melt both of ours down.”  He didn’t say it was because maybe a little of what Chris was saying was making sense.

“As someone who knows about that sort of thing, metals aren’t necessarily valuable unless they’re silver, gold, or copper,” Chris retorted, and that hurt quality was back to his tone.  “Maybe titanium, or unobtanium.”

Luke shut his eyes tight before turning to him.  “A lot of things got said tonight.  All the more reason I’m headed to bed.  You don’t have to go now yourself, but I don’t want you to take the couch out of some self-sacrificing bullshit because things got weird.  Don’t you think we’ve both got a lot to think about?”

Chris shrugged, unwilling to comment, nearly as if he had slipped into a placid mode that had been far more engrained by upbringing than Luke had ever thought.

“Fine, suit yourself.  But I’m going to be pissed if I find you frozen to death on this couch.  This couch is a Danes relic, fully worthy of the D.A.R’s recognition,” he grumbled, and didn’t miss the shuffling, crooked grin that finally and weakly graced Chris’s lips though the other man never took his eyes from the floor.

XXXXX

Luke woke early again, curled over his pillow and an arm outstretched off the edge of the bed.  He started to move, despite the cold reminding him sharply what time of year it was, and, with a small amount of surprise, guessed that maybe their fight hadn’t been as bad as he thought.  He only thought so because while Chris wasn’t necessarily wrapped around him, Luke could still feel the solid length of his back against his own, warmth seeping from beneath the blanket, and their feet tangled together.

He smiled despite himself, and quickly rose from the bed so as little heat escaped as possible.  He turned just as Chris groggily reached back, and then twisted to hug the remaining warmth of Luke’s pillow.  The grin spread a bit before he shook his head at himself and grumbled his way to the kitchen to prepare for the trip out on the water.

After having gotten dressed and ready, Luke peered at the dark shape of Chris lying in the bed, debating whether to wake him or let him sleep.  Sighing at himself, his indecision, and the unfamiliarity of the feelings running through his veins, he pulled his cap back over his head before scratching out a note quickly.  He hoped it was legible, given the darkness and the fact he _really_ couldn’t write well with his left hand.

Luke sighed and stayed at the door for a long while, long enough that he was even starting to debate scrapping the trip out on the lake all together for falling back into bed so he could consider letting Chris hitch up next to him again.  He thought a bit sullenly that if he had just stayed in bed a minute or so longer, maybe Chris would’ve given Luke the same treatment as the pillow.

Approaching the bed with trepidation, Luke swiped two fingers over Chris’s forehead, and grinned awkwardly when Chris leaned into the touch and then buried his face into the pillow, leaving Luke’s fingers brushing against the short-cut hair.  Luke sighed, wishing more than anything he had the courage to admit what was going on instead of pretending it was a fluke of nature, a random act in life that he had little input into.

In the end, he went out on the water instead, because fishing had always helped him think better.  He looked across the end of the boat, and rocked it sharply suddenly.  Cold water splashed up against his hand, and it helped erase the memory of Chris sitting across from him, crooked smile and teasing (maybe it had been flirting all this time) him about whether Luke was ever going to get a bite.

He shook his hand, rubbing it restlessly against a counter towel on his leg, because the water hadn’t quite gotten the memory of Chris’s lips on his own, angry and heated, to go away in the slightest.

XXXXXXXXXX

Chris awoke slowly as dawn shone into the bedroom, and he frowned.  He had Luke’s pillow hugged to his chest, with no sign of Luke.  It took him a minute to wake up enough to see the torn piece of paper on the nightstand with messy, uneven handwriting.  He rolled over and swiped it off to read over it quickly.

_Chris,_

_Thought you could use some sleep and get some work done on this trip.  Be back at noon._

_Luke_

So, nothing about last night (not that Chris would expect Luke to leave any tangible evidence) or whether Luke even wanted him around anymore after that.

Chris sat up in bed, the sunlight having warmed the room to tolerable, and touched his fingers to his mouth.  Luke’s mouth had been surprisingly soft despite the anger, not to mention the stubble, but then Chris had stubble of his own after a day of no shaving so he wasn’t sure he’d noticed it.  His stomach flipped at the memory, and he intentionally put his bare feet on the floor to try and dislodge the odd feeling.

He sighed, cradling his head in his hands.  This was becoming such a complicated mess that he didn’t even know if he was ever going to get back to the surface of normalcy.  A little weirdness, he could handle.  Hell, he preferred it.  But wanting to make out with another guy that had kicked his ass that one time and he’d fought with more than once over the same woman?  And Jesus, when had he _ever_ wanted to kiss a guy before, let alone find one attractive?

Chris wasn’t below acknowledging general attractiveness in either gender.  But he was pretty sure he had never _wanted_ like this, not since Lorelai, and even this, it was such a different kind of _want_ that he didn’t know what to do with it.

Another exhale of breath later, and Chris had made his decision, impulsive or not.  He made sure to leave a note before he called his car service, because while he distinctly wanted to stay, he got the feeling that he shouldn’t.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I feel it necessary to point out that I took some...liberties, so to speak, with why Chris was his grandfather's favorite grandchild. We all know that Luke took over everything in his father's stead, that Liz had (at one point) a drug/alcohol problem and then was just kind of...absorbed in her own life, so to speak (without offending Liz fans, if I could), and I took a bit of liberty with that. Still, I hope I didn't violate any canon-issues from the show (aside from the pairing obviously) and hope you enjoyed! Thanks for sticking with it ^_^


	7. Things You Never Say To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke doesn't get a note. Chris gets it from Emily, Lorelai, and Luke, and decides to take his motorcycle out for a ride. Guess which one ends better?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I’m such a bad author. This chapter needed a little more TLC than I’m accustomed; I’m sorry it took so long to get out there! I don’t know that anyone’s that into this story anyway, but I am trying hard to keep up. It’s not for lack of wanting to write it, if it helps! I’ve got another side-project going on that’s taking a lot of my interest (a Luke/Chris project), and between work and other stuff, I’m lucky to edit thing properly.  
> That being said, hope you enjoy ^_^

XXXXX

Luke frowned as he approached the cabin; Chris’s boots weren’t there.  He didn’t think Chris was the type to clean them in between days of fishing, and confirmed his suspicions as he entered to find the cabin empty and Chris’s bag gone.  His lip curled in anger before he could stop it, and he dropped his cooler off in the kitchen before storming into the bedroom.  He saw no indication that Chris had even been there.

The bed was neatly made, and Luke was amused that when he pulled the corner of the thick quilt up, the sheets had been tucked with tight hospital corners.  He glanced quickly around the room, but didn’t see a note, not even the one he had left that morning.  There wasn’t anything in the kitchen either.

He wanted to punch something again, but the neon green of his cast reminded him why that was a bad idea.  He glared, his left fist clenched (because his right was unable) and trying to decide if he even wanted to be here if Chris had decided to just up and leave before either of them could completely process the previous night, or at least talk about it.

He missed the small note that had fallen to the floor, just beneath the bed, when he’d angrily opened the bedroom door.

Though, now that Luke thought about it, maybe they should just forget it all together.  Maybe Chris was well and truly against any kind of friendship with Luke at this point, and had decided to just leave.  Despite the little voice niggling in his head that agreed and had been saying exactly that the day before, he still felt irritated and hurt.

Luke slammed the cooler into the bed of his truck.  Well, if Chris wasn’t going to stick around, neither was he.  It’s not like they had anything to say about what happened, no matter how much Luke wanted to hash it over.

XXXXX

Chris had completely tuned out of the conference call at this point.  He continued to work even if he didn’t have to, because if he didn’t, he’d go crazy from boredom after six straight months of reliving what should have probably been his college days.  The call continued and ended with little fanfare, being that everything was moving smoothly, and, practically, since Chris had owner-shares in the company, was only called in like this occasionally.

He hadn’t told his other owners and programmers that he had slowly been taking classes online to learn about what was being done with his money and ideas, and he wasn’t exactly pleased with how things were headed.  It was all fine and good, he supposed, being underlings at the top chain of support for a major operating system company, but when he’d started investing in software, technical system recovery supports weren’t exactly what he’d wanted to do.

Chris lay the phone down on the cradle, staring around his office.  If he were being honest, he could say that as an investor, it wasn’t any of his business really how the company was being run, so long as the profit margins were up every quarter.  But it wasn’t like he had to worry about money either.

And at the end of the day, all of it was one big distraction from the fact that it had been two days since leaving Luke’s cabin, and he hadn’t heard from the guy.  His note hadn’t been particularly specific, but still call-back worthy.  He frowned at his phone, which showed nothing different than the dozens of times he had checked it since leaving.

It was barely noon, but he was already considering taking off for the day for a ride on his bike.  The thought didn’t settle well with him; though very little was these days, not since he’d first sloppily scrawled his name over Luke’s cast.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a knock on his apartment door.  With a frown, Chris got up and opened it without looking, hoping (only a _little_ ) that it was Luke.

To his surprise though, it was Lorelai.

“Lore?” Chris asked curiously, and opened the door wider to let her in.

Lorelai turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest.  “What are you doing, Chris?” she asked in the same way she used to when he brought up some new idea he had for where he had gone during Rory’s childhood.

Chris responded as differently now as he could have had then.  “Well, I just got done with a conference call, and I was considering pursuing other options than the software company.  Was also thinking about a ride on my bike, but—“

“Stop,” Lorelai said sharply enough that he raised his hands and did so.  “Why are you hanging out with Luke and messing with his head and making everything else so more complicated?  I thought we had an understanding, Germany-style about East and West with a damn wall, and here you come, destroying the wall fifteen years too early!”

Chris sighed.  “I’m not _doing_ anything!  I’m lending the guy a listening ear that’s not a Stars Hollow’s ear.  Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to someone who’s going to blab it to the most insular town in the country.  Maybe he just wanted to talk to someone who’s had experience with you.”

“That’s not fair,” Lorelai responded.  “You don’t think it’s weird?  You guys have barely pulled off three words together politely, you beat the shit out of each other that one time, and next thing _I_ know, you’re offering him advice of some kind and then going fishing with him like the new Huck and Finn?”

Chris rolled his eyes and handed her a cup of coffee.  “How’s it any business of yours who I’m friends with, what I’m doing with my time?  Is it hurting Rory?”

“No, but—“

“Then stop it,” Chris snapped, feeling abnormally rebellious.  “I’m sorry I didn’t get your permission slip to make friends with your boyfriend, but he wanted someone to talk to.  If you haven’t noticed, it’s not like I’ve got many friends myself.  It’s not like either one of us have a whole town backing us, and if you were Luke, you’d probably want a familiar ear as well.”

Lorelai swept in front of him, setting her untouched coffee down.  “You may not know him as well as I do, but I know _you_.  I don’t know what kind of crap you’re feeding into his ear, but ever since you guys came back from _your_ fishing weekend, he’s fired and re-hired two servers, got into everything but fisticuffs with Taylor, and is pretty much being “The Jerk” of the town, in every Steve Martin sense of the word.  I don’t know what went down between you two, but I’m asking you—no, I’m _begging_ you—stay out of this, Christopher.”

“Don’t you think that’s Luke’s decision?” Chris asked irritably, because if Luke’s attitude was a result of this weekend, he had little idea why.  His note, while brief, had been sufficiently explanatory.

Lorelai glared at him as she began walking briskly for the door.  “You don’t need to worry about Luke’s decisions.  Stay out of it, Christopher.  This has _nothing_ to do with you, and at the end of the day, it shouldn’t anyway.”

Chris sighed as she slammed the door behind her.  It had a hell of a lot to do with him, as far as he was concerned, and he leaned back against the door, rapping his knuckles against the wood.  He was feeling the need desperately for air and open road, and so he decided that ride would be a good idea after all.

It had a hell of a lot to do with him, Chris thought viciously as he snatched up his helmet and left a note for the maid, who was supposed to be by in the next hour.  Only thing was, Lorelai didn’t know just how _much_ it had to do with him.  His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he decided to ignore it for now, because his bike was damn near _calling_ him at this point.

All he wanted was cold air and open road, and so the phone stayed in the pocket of his leather jacket, ignored.

XXXXX

Luke had just closed the shop and was cleaning things from the counter when he heard a knock at the diner’s door.  “We’re closed!” he yelled out irritably, slamming things into a tray used for bussing.  He had texted Chris earlier (and wasn’t that a barrel of fun, resorting to texting instead of just having an honest-to-god phone call like _normal_ people) asking why the fuck the other man had decided to simply leave, but hadn’t received anything back.  It didn’t help that he _did_ try to call later, but it had gone to voicemail immediately.

The knocking rang out again, harder and louder than before.

Luke sighed, though it came out as a frustrated grunt more than anything else.  “I said we’re closed; come back tomorrow!”  He came up from behind the counter where he had stacked the condiments, and saw a familiar face peering in through the door’s window.

Chris stood there, wearing a leather jacket and looking overly troubled.

Luke rounded the counter quickly and opened the door.  “Wasn’t really expecting you to stop by,” he said gruffly, staring resolutely at the counter top and going back to wiping it down.

Chris entered the diner, running a hand over his head.  “I left a note,” he said defensively, crossing his arms.  “I got yours, and the more I thought about it, the more I was pretty sure you wanted me to leave.”

“I didn’t get any note,” Luke replied shortly.  “I came back; you were gone.”  He scrubbed at the counter viciously.  “Now, if you don’t mind, I was just closing up.  Unless you’d like to order something?”

Chris stared at him for a long moment; long enough that Luke stopped wiping at the counter, but not long enough that he looked up.

“I don’t…” Chris cut himself off with a tense breath, running his hand over his hair again.  “Lore came to see me.”

Luke finally looked up, taking in Chris’s stiff posture and downcast eyes.  “Yeah?  And?”

“She thinks I need to stay out of everything,” Chris replied, hands on his hips and still looking down.  “She doesn’t want us…doing whatever it is we do.”

“She can want whatever she wants; she’s her own person.  Are you gonna order something or not?”

Chris glared at him.  “So…we’re not talking about what happened last night?”

“The grill’s pretty much cooled down at this point, but we’ve still got some pie, a few doughnuts…hell, maybe I can just go ahead and throw together a thanksgiving dinner if _that’s_ what you really want, but—“

“Stop!” Chris cut him off, hand moving wildly to the side before slapping on the counter.  He shook his head, staring down at the ground, both hands on the counter now.  “Fine, I’ll take a piece of strawberry-rhubarb pie and a cup of coffee.”

Luke stared at him in disbelief, irritation edging away and making his shoulders hunch.  “You’re really going to order something.”

“Well,” Chris said with condescension and sarcasm coloring his face and voice, “You made it clear that the only way we’re talking about anything is if I order, and I ordered.”

Luke dropped a plate in front of Chris, the pie bouncing on the plate.  He poured a cup of coffee sloppily, clenching his teeth when Chris swore as the coffee splashed at his hand.  “There’s your pie and coffee.  I can offer a to-go box, if you’d like.”

Chris glared at the plate in front of him stubbornly.  “No, I think the atmosphere is kind of agreeing with me; I think I’ll stay.”

Luke rolled his eyes.  “Fine, stay and eat your pie and drink your coffee.  Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.”  He turned away before coming back.  “And make sure to lock up, if you could; I don’t want unwelcomed customers knocking on the door, thinking we’re still open when we’re not, and deciding that to hell with what the sign says, they’re just gonna force their way in _anyway_ , and—“

He cut himself off when the door slammed shut to the diner and he was talking to empty air.  He sighed.  That was _not_ how he had wanted that to go.

It still stuck in his mind that Chris had insisted he’d left a note when there had been nothing though, and Luke made quicker work than normal of cleaning up the diner, prepping for the morning, and closing up.  Sleep be damned, he was going to find that note, because between Chris’s irritation and obvious hurt at Luke’s dismissal, Luke clearly needed to see it.

He didn’t think until he was halfway upstairs to get his truck keys that _crap_ , Lorelai had talked with Chris about their friendship, and he started wondering just what the hell had gotten said.  He didn’t peg Chris for talking about the previous night, but whatever had been brought up clearly hadn’t been good.  Chris wouldn’t have shown up otherwise.

And the more Luke thought about it, the more he realized Chris had looked fairly haggard and upset when he had brought it up.

Luke sighed again, rubbing his fingers over his face in a habitual movement he’d had all his life for little reason.  Instead, he pushed off the thoughts about Chris and Lorelai’s conversation until he could talk to Chris later…after driving back to the cabin to find the note.

XXXXX

Chris woke up a little more than hung over and far past the time he had wanted to be up.  His phone was dead, and, with a quick glance at the clock, he had missed his weekly conference call.  None of this was what had woken him up, however; it was the incessant and non-stop knocking at the door.  He groaned and reluctantly rolled to a sitting position in bed.  He held his head for a moment, hating everything between the sunlight streaming through the _oh_ -so-helpful windows and the alarm that was still going off.  He slammed his hand down on the clock and snagged the sweats and tee-shirt on the floor before making his way to the door.

“I’m coming!  I get it, the apocalypse is here, the zombies are running, there’s street gangs on every—“ He stopped short when he opened the door and Emily Gilmore was on the other side.  He cleared his throat and stepped back to allow for the usual polite distance he gave her.  “Emily…nice of you to drop by.”  He looked down quickly at his state of dress, but reluctantly stepped aside to allow more space.  “Would you like to come in?”

Emily stared at him for a long moment before sweeping into the room in a way that was all too reminiscent of Lorelai.

Chris wondered if he was ever going to catch a break.  First Lorelai, then Luke and his seeming refusal to even _talk_ , and now Emily Gilmore was on his doorstep.  “I’ll just put some coffee on.”

Emily sighed in a put-out way.  “Oh, no bother.  I’ve already had my coffee for the morning, as most people have, and I’d hate to be an inconvenience.  I won’t be staying long.”

Chris turned, hoping the irritation didn’t show in the movement.  By the way Emily was still looking at him expectantly, he was pretty sure he hadn’t succeeded.  “Fine; I offered.  What else can I do for you, Emily?”

Emily gazed out the windows for a moment.  “Lorelai says you and Luke have become friends in some fashion.”

Chris sighed and poured a much needed cup of coffee.  If the thought of alcohol at the moment didn’t make his stomach turn, he might have desperately wanted scotch.  “We’ve talked a little.  He needed someone to talk to; I happened to be around.”

Emily finally turned from the window with a forced smile of politeness on her face.  “Perhaps you should be around _less_ , Christopher.”

Chris was really starting to _hate_ the way both Emily and Lorelai called him by his full first name in the same patronizing way, as if talking to a child in need of a spanking.  “I’m not interested in being into Lorelai’s life that much; maybe you should do the same?”

Emily snorted quietly—just loud enough to insinuate her offense, but quiet enough that it could be passed off as a sneeze or cough.  “She’s my daughter; I’m allowed to interfere.  Your friendship with her fiancée though is something I’m obligated to point out is a very bad idea.”

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose, absently turning his actual body language out of Emily’s eyesight by habit.  “Maybe by your standards.  The guy needed a friend; he saw a familiar face.  He gave me the same.”

Emily idly joined him at the counter.  “Your…interactions with Luke seem to have a negative effect on their trying to reconcile.  How can you expect to even her odds of being happy if you’re interfering with her relationship?”

“I’m not trying to negatively impact anything,” Chris snapped, mostly because he felt like the gulp of coffee he had just taken was going to make a reappearance in his kitchen sink.  “I’m not trying to interfere with anything.  What the hell is so _wrong_ with me hanging out with Luke that it brought you over here in the first place?”

By the time he had turned around, Emily was directly in front of him, staring at him in a way not dissimilar to the way she had when she was encouraging him to go after Lorelai.

“I’m saying that you are making Lorelai unhappy.  At the end of it all, you have always wanted her happy, even if it wasn’t with you—despite what I wanted, what her father wanted.  You try too hard, Christopher.”  His teeth gritted the way in a way he now recognized as a motion associated with both Lorelai and Emily.  “Ingratiating yourself into her life through Luke isn’t going to make her happy.  Letting them reconcile and figure out whether they’re meant to be together at her own speed is what will content her.  Whether they’re going to put everything to rights or not is up to them, regardless of your intrusion into their lives.”

“Emily, I’m not trying to hurt _anything_ going on there; I’m just trying to be a friend.”

“Be a friend to Lorelai then,” Emily said dismissively as she cast a calculating eye over his kitchen.  “And tell your maid that she needs to stop thieving the cleaning supplies you provide.  Good day, Christopher.”

Chris waited until the door was shut, until he knew the elevator had gone down (because god damn it, he’d _timed_ it after Emily’s little visit with Gigi way back when) because after that specific amount of time had passed, he calmly finished his coffee.

He then took a shower, got dressed, and, after checking in with work (whether they needed him to or not), grabbed the keys to his motorcycle, and took off just as fast as he possibly could.

XXXXX

Luke didn’t read the note right away—it was an hour drive to the cabin one way as it was, and he had every intention of opening the diner.  It practically burned in his back pocket as he drove back, and he steadfastly ignored it as he forced himself to sleep for the four lousy hours he was able to get before the diner required his attention.  He continued to ignore it throughout the day, throwing himself into work the way he always did when forcing his thoughts elsewhere.  That habit, he knew he’d gotten from his dad.

His phone vibrated and went off several times during the day.  A handful of them were texts from April, indicating she had already heard back from some of the universities she had applied to, and that the replies had been very positive.

Luke had smiled with pride; his girl could get in _anywhere_ as far as he was concerned, and he only wanted her to have her pick.  At this rate, she would.

Another few were from Lorelai, going back and forth between wanting to talk but also wanting space.  He hadn’t been surprised, given that he knew Lorelai inside and out at this point, and knew that while she _did_ want to talk, she wasn’t _ready_ to do so.

Those particular texts went unanswered, except for the final one, where he quickly punched in something close to an “ok” and ran back into the diner to wash his hands and man the grill again while Cesar gave out recommendations about adding vegan options to the menu that Luke took with a grain of salt (though he was honestly thinking the vegetarian omelet and black bean burger weren’t terrible ideas).

There were also a few texts each from TJ and Liz, wishing him a good day and sending some pictures of Doula and a few other pictures he was abso- _lute-_ ly certain he wasn’t supposed to see, but he was convinced they didn’t realize they were still sending in a group text.

The latter of those texts got nothing.

During the lull between lunch and dinner, he saw that he had two missed calls from Chris and one text.  The text only asked if he had found the note yet.  He made the effort to punch back that he had, but hadn’t read it.

It wasn’t until just after the dinner rush that he saw a missed call from an unknown number plus a voicemail from around 8:30 PM, and he went outside (per his own rule) to hear it as he finally (and maybe a little bit hesitantly) unfolded the note from his back pocket.

_Luke,_

_I wanted to go fishing with you, but you seemed like you wanted your solitude more than my company.  Call me if you want to talk._

_-Chris_

The voicemail said something entirely different.

_Mr. Danes,_

_We were given your number as an emergency contact by our patient, Christopher Hayden.  He was in an accident, but he is in stable condition.  Please contact us at Windham Hospital—_ “

Luke snapped his phone shut, turned over closing the diner to Cesar, made quick plans for Lane and Cesar to open the diner tomorrow (with Zach filling in as a server), before he grabbed the go-bag that Jess had convinced him to make so he could jump into his truck and start heading for Andover.

XXXXX

Luke slapped the white sticker over his shirt pocket and went off in search of Chris’s room.

Chris was sleeping in a hospital bed when Luke entered.  His face was scraped up, as were his arms and hands, but nothing was in a cast; only gauze covering the worst of it.  There was a tightly wrapped ace-bandage around his left wrist, and more gauze bandaging peeking from beneath the collar of the dotted hospital gown.  There was the usual IV in his hand, probably laced with some sort of painkiller.

Luke sat down in the chair with a heavy sigh.  “And you thought my punching a counter was stupid.”  He leaned forward, hands pressed together and his face against them.  “I’m never gonna let you hear the end of this.”

A nurse entered the room, startling Luke to a standing position.  “Oh, don’t mind me.  Just checking a few vitals and his IV drip.”

“So…he’s…stable or whatever?” Luke asked as he awkwardly fidgeted beside the bed.

The nurse nodded, scooping up Chris’s chart and beginning to make notes in it.  “Are you family?”

Luke shook his head reluctantly.  “No, he gave me as his emergency contact.”  He started fumbling for his wallet.  “I’ve got ID if—“

She smiled warmly at him and waved him off, pointing to his visitor’s sticker amusingly.  “You have a visitor’s badge, hon.  He’s fine.  A little scraped and bruised, with a couple of bruised ribs.  He’ll need to stay off his feet for a few days though—his right knee got twisted pretty badly.  He’s lucky he wasn’t going that fast when he wrecked.  They’re just keeping him overnight for observation; he’ll be out tomorrow as soon as the doctor checks him over one more time.”

Luke nodded, hands on his hips.  “I’m sure he’ll listen.”

The nurse tilted her head at him in confusion.  “Oh, you’re not…?”  She waved her hand absently between the Luke and Chris.

“Oh, no!  No, no, just good friends,” Luke said quickly, heat rushing to his face as his mouth went dry.  “Not really sure why he’d give me as an emergency contact.”

The nurse shrugged.  “He was pretty loopy with some of the first round of what the EMT’s gave him when they wheeled him in.”  She grinned amusingly as she replaced Chris’s chart.  “I believe he’s quite fond of you, the way he was talking.”

Luke barked out a forced chuckle.  “So, he’s ok?”

She nodded again.  “He will be.  I’m sure he’ll appreciate you coming to sit with him.”

Luke’s hand wavered a bit in front of him.  “Oh, I don’t know if I’ll be here all _night_ ; I just came to make sure he was okay.”

The nurse stared at him a little too archly for Luke’s tastes.  “Well…okay then.  I’m sure he’ll know you stopped by and that you cared,” she said dryly.

He rolled his eyes, because he was being guilt-tripped by a nurse.  “I’m sure he will,” he replied just as dryly, and waited in silence until she was done and out the door.

The chair creaked as he sat down beside the bed again, staring at Chris snoring lightly in the bed.  He had thought everything was a mess before; he wasn’t even remotely close to knowing how he felt about it now.  All he knew was he had an uncomfortably tight chest, a pit in his stomach, and an issue swallowing against the lump in his throat as soon as he had known Chris was okay.

The tight feeling was going away though, and his stomach was beginning to settle slightly.  The lump hadn’t gone away, but maybe an antacid would help with that.

Luke pressed his hands into his face again, elbows balanced on his knees.  His palm remained over his mouth while the other arm dropped, and he shot a stare that wasn’t quite laughter in Chris’s direction.  “You’re such a fucking idiot.  For Christ’s sake, Chris…” he muttered hoarsely into the skin of his hand.

Chris grunted in his sleep a bit, his head lolling to Luke’s direction.  His fingers twitched a bit.

Luke looked behind him, as if making sure no one was watching, and turned back.  “Look…” He sighed, pulling his cap off and quickly repositioning it over his head.  His hands fumbled for a moment, trying to articulate but unsure of what he wanted to say.  “Whatever this is…”  He stopped again to look behind him again, before standing to shut the door quietly.  Approaching the bed again, he sat on the edge of it instead of the chair, slowly and almost experimentally folding Chris’s hand into his own.  Maybe it was the IV, maybe it was the stark shades of red marring the skin, or even the bandage wrapped around Chris’s wrist, but Chris seemed fragile, smaller somehow.

Luke glared down at their hands, and gripped Chris’s fingers tighter because it eased the lump in his throat.

“Whatever this is,” he repeated, and felt Chris’s fingers twitch around his own.  He stopped out of fear, and relaxed when Chris’s grip slackened.  He swallowed hard, eyes shut tight and then opening again to the reality of Chris’s motorcycle accident.  “I want to…do something.”  He stared down again before looking up.  “I want to know what it’s about.  I didn’t… _hate_ it when you kissed me…obviously, I didn’t, or else I wouldn’t have kissed you back, but…I still don’t know what this _is_ , and…” Luke trailed off, feeling awkward and tense as he slid off the bed and into the chair, but didn’t relinquish his hold on Chris’s hand.  “I’ve never done this before,” he finished quietly.  “And I don’t know how to do it at all.”

He was asleep before he knew it, the exhaustion draining away his will to stay awake to see for himself that Chris was fine.  Instead, his head lolled forward and onto his shoulder a little bit, and he snored quietly in the chair.

XXXXX

It was nearly seven in the morning when Rory’s cell phone started going off.  She groaned into the pillow, fumbling around on the nightstand before knocking the offending phone to the floor and swearing sharply into the warm blankets of the cheap hotel room she was in.  She hated sensationalist journalism, but since she wasn’t quite high enough on the ladder yet to say no to various assignments thrown her way where she would get her own byline, here she was, in some no-name town smaller than Stars Hollow, covering a big police sting that was about to bust a meth lab.

The phone kept ringing again, and Rory grunted in frustration as she blindly snatched her phone up.  “Rory Gilmore,” she murmured sleepily.

“Yes, hello!  I’m the admitting clerk at Windham Hospital.  Your father, Christopher Hayden, is our patient, and—“

Rory bolted upright in the bed.  “What?  Is he okay?  What happened?  How long ago?  What hospital is this again?”

“He’s fine,” the clerk said soothingly as Rory began frantically going around the room to get dressed and pack up.  “He was in an accident involving his motorcycle, but they’re releasing him this afternoon.  You were listed as one of his emergency contacts in his insurance file, and once this information was faxed to us, we wanted to call and let you know.”

“Accident?  He wrecked his motorcycle?” Rory asked, still half-asleep and trying to find her other sneaker.  “But he’s okay?  They’re letting him go?”

“Yes.  He’s fine; I promise.  The contact he gave us when he came in is still here.  I’m just informing you that Mr. Hayden is here.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll be right there,” Rory grit out quickly, and hung up her phone before realizing she hadn’t gotten the address of the hospital.  Punching the information into an app on her phone, she finished packing her things and called the assistant editor for the small paper she worked for in Weatogue.  She quickly shot off an e-mail of the research and coverage she had gotten, and then sped through the process of checking out, skimming the directions, and then being almost manically relieved when she saw it wasn’t far.

The ride to the hospital was mostly a blur, because no matter what was going on between her parents, Rory still worried, and she wondered absently in the background which other emergency contact her father would have possibly given besides herself, Gigi, Sherri, or her mother.

XXXXX

Rory entered the hospital, hands fidgeting and wringing a bit by the time she got the visitor’s desk.  “Hi, I’m Rory Gilmore.  My father, Christopher Hayden, was admitted last night?”

The employee at the desk tapped something on their keyboard.  “ID please?”

Rory handed her license over and waited impatiently until the clerk looked up again.

“Look at the camera please.”

“Wait, what?” Rory turned just as a flash blinded her quickly, and the clerk handed her ID back.

“Here’s your visitor’s badge; here’s his room number.  You take that elevator to the right and follow the signs.  Have a nice day.”

Rory took the white sticker with what quite possibly was the worst photo ever taken of her ever and stuck it to her sweater before walking to the elevator and clutching the paper with her father’s room number on it.  The ride seemed slow and irritating, and even though the admitting clerk had promised her that he was fine, her gut still twisted in concern.

The elevator dinged, and Rory stepped out, looking for the signs she needed until she finally approached the indicated door on the paper in her hand.  With a preparatory sigh, she gently pushed open the door so that if her dad was asleep, she wouldn’t wake him.

She was completely unprepared for seeing Luke sitting beside the bed, sound asleep with his body bent forward, his head resting on the mattress against her father’s hip.  One arm supported his head on the bed, his cast a stark outline of green against the sharp white of the sheets, and his other hand was tangled up with her father’s.

Rory took a step back, completely confused and bewildered.  When had they gone Brokeback?  Hell, when had Luke or her father _ever_ shown signs of going Brokeback?

There was a slight cough behind her, and she turned to find a tired-looking nurse with kind eyes.  “Hello, you must be Rory!”

Rory nodded, stepping back to allow the nurse in.  “Yes, I’m Rory.  How’d you know?”

The nurse bustled around quickly.  Her scrubs were stained with something or another, and the tight bun her hair was in had loose strands falling away.  “Oh, I reviewed his chart around four in the morning after his friend fell asleep.  I saw your emergency contact.”

Rory nodded politely.  “Oh, okay.”  She stepped forward, nervously pushing her hair behind her ear in an old habit she had never been able to get rid of.  “So…he’s going to be okay though?”

The nurse nodded, scribbling quickly into the chart she’d pulled from the foot of her father’s bed.  “He’ll be okay.  They’re releasing him this afternoon, I think, as soon as the doctor checks him out again.  It was nothing serious; some scrapes, bumps, and bruises, a couple of bruised ribs, and he twisted his knee pretty badly.  But he’s gonna be fine.”

“Good, thank you…”  Rory looked again at the very odd scene of Luke asleep on the bed, holding her father’s hand.  “So…his other emergency contact was Luke?”

“It was what he told the EMT’s,” the nurse said, and slotted the chart back into the end of the bed.  “He got here around nine last night, I think?”  She turned brightly in a way that indicated to Rory that the nurse was really quite tired.  “Anything else?”

Rory shook her head.  “No, no…you’ve told me what I needed to now…my dad’s fine.  He had someone with him over night.”

The nurse nodded and briskly left the room.

A soft snorting sound made Rory turn, and when she did, her father was slowly waking up, eyes slowly taking in the scene around him.  Rory saw the slow, sleepy look he gave to Luke and their hands before turning groggy eyes to her.

“Rory,” he said hoarsely, “It’s not…I don’t…this isn’t what…” He trailed off, unable to finish and attempting to move.

“No, just…just _don’t_ ,” Rory said quietly, arms crossed over her stomach.  “I don’t want to know what’s going on here.  I don’t even _know_ what’s going on here.  I’m just glad you’re okay.  What happened?”

Chris swallowed hard, shifting slightly but not enough to wake Luke.  “I wrecked my bike.”

Rory rolled her eyes.  “Well, obviously.”

“It’s just…look, I was catching shit from your mom, from your grandmother, and then Luke and I had a fight, and I got on my bike, and I wasn’t paying attention…but I’m _fine_.”

“Stop, Dad.  I don’t…I don’t want to know, okay?”  Rory irritably pushed her hair away from her face again.  “You’re okay?”

Chris nodded.  “Yeah.  I’m okay.”

She shuffled in place a bit, staring down and then back at her father again.  “As long as you’re okay.  I’m going to go wait in the waiting room until…Luke leaves.  Call me if you need a ride home.”  She fled the room, because while her dad was okay, she wasn’t entirely sure she was.

Chris sighed after she left, but looked down at where Luke slept soundly against his hip, ball cap lopsided against mussed hair in sleep, fingers tangled loosely with his own and the hard cast against his thigh.  “So…not my finest moment.  How much did you actually hear?”

Luke snorted; it could have been a sleepy sound or legitimate, right up until he sighed and lifted his head a little.  He didn’t let go of Chris’s fingers.  “Everything from the minute she came in.”

Chris chuckled weakly, tilting his head back.  He stared at the ceiling because it was easier than having Luke’s eyes grilling him and peering for information.  He tilted his head to the side with a sigh.  “I might be a little out of it with the painkillers right now…but—“

“You don’t have to say anything,” Luke interjected quickly, but his fingers tightened around Chris’s.

“I don’t have to; I want to,” Chris responded, and finally turned back to look back at Luke.  His grip tightened again as he looked down at their intertwined hands, before meeting with Luke’s blue-eyed gaze.  “I want…we…we should do this.”  He sighed and let his head relax into the pillow.  “I want this…I don’t know what it is, but I want it.”

Luke gripped Chris’s fingers as he stood.  “What in the holy hell are we even doing though?  The last time I even _kissed_ a guy was for a dare in high school, and only because—“

Chris jerked at his hand, pulling him forward.  “Who cares why we’re doing it?”  He licked his lips quickly, biting the lower lip out of habit.  “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

Luke could feel Chris’s breathing against his own mouth.  “Yeah,” he admitted hoarsely.  “It does.”  He backed away, because even though they were in agreement about it, he still wanted his space.  “Your nurse said last night you’ll probably go home today.  It wasn’t too serious.”

“I wasn’t going that fast when I spun out,” Chris admitted.  “Zigged when I should’ve zagged.  I wasn’t exactly paying attention last night.”

Luke felt a fresh surge of guilt, remembering how Chris had told Rory just how many people he’d gotten it from that day, all for it to culminate in a fight between he and Luke.  “I’m sorry about—“

Chris waved him off.  “Don’t worry about it.  It wasn’t just you.  I got Emily Gilmore’d later; you know how that feels.”

“Yeah, but you can’t just take off on your bike and let something like this happen,” Luke replied stubbornly.  “And if I hadn’t been an ass about that weekend in the first place—“

“Look, it’s unknown waters we’re in.  I don’t know what the hell we’re doing; hell, we barely know each other in the first place.  So let’s start there,” Chris interrupted him.  “I’m going to start by assuming you have a blame-yourself-complex of epic magnitude that would give Thomas More pause for thought.”

Luke rubbed his hand over his neck.  “You could say that.  I’m also going to guess you have the impulsive attitude of a twelve-year-old boy who goes off and wrecks his dirt bike.”

Chris snorted.  “Maybe, if I’d been allowed to have one.”  He sighed.  “Let’s just say I don’t deal well with pressure and when it gets to be too much, I can be unfocused and reckless.”

“So, now we know something about each other.”

Chris shot him a faint, crooked grin.  “Works for me.”  He stretched in the bed a little, wincing when he felt aches and pains just about everywhere.  “So, I get it, if you need to get back to the diner.”

“Yeah,” Luke responded reluctantly.  “Besides, you probably want or need to talk to Rory before she talks to Lorelai.”

“Too late.  I’d keep an eye out if I were you.”

“Yeah,” Luke muttered, and before he could change his mind, gave Chris a quick, almost awkward peck on the mouth.  “Call me later, when you get home safe.”

“Will do.  Send Rory in?”

“If she’ll talk to me.  See you later.”  Luke shut the door behind him, aimlessly wandering until he found a small waiting room where Rory was going between her phone and a notepad.  She looked up when he cleared his throat.  “Your dad says to send you in.”

Rory stood, looking at him suspiciously.  “How long?” she asked bluntly.

Luke sighed.  “Not long.  A couple of weeks maybe.”

“Does Mom know?”

Luke shook his head reluctantly, and proceeded to feel about two inches tall from the glare Rory sent his direction.  Definitely a Gilmore then.  “It hasn’t really been that long, and I didn’t know what was going on with it; it just _happened_ , I swear.”

Rory sighed.  “I haven’t told her yet, you know.”  She stood up, crossing her arms defensively against her chest as she did so.  “This is weird.”

“I know it’s weird.”

“No, I don’t think you know how weird this is,” Rory said, her voice on the verge of a long rant, no doubt stuffed with references Luke wouldn’t understand in a million years.  “So you’re not trying with Mom anymore?”

“She hasn’t exactly been trying too much with me lately either,” Luke pointed out.

“How could she, you’ve been screwing around with Dad for two weeks,” Rory replied acidly as she snatched her stuff together.  “I don’t know _what_ the two of you think you’re doing, but you’d better figure it out pretty damn quickly.  Not for your sake, not for Dad’s, not even for _mine_ , but for _Mom’s_.  You don’t know that she’s given up, and you shouldn’t give up without talking to her first.  And believe me, if you don’t tell her, _I will_.  She doesn’t deserve this.”  She snapped her notebook shut.  “I’m going to my father’s room now; excuse me.”  She speedily walked past him.

Okay, so Rory had spared him the references, but had brought the full weight of his actions against him instead.

Luke shivered, because the chill he’d felt coming from Rory was damn near tangible.  His gut properly twisted from guilt and exhaustion, he hastily left the waiting room to get back in his truck and head for Star’s Hollow.

In the end, after getting back, he left it to Cesar and Lane for the day, mostly supervising.  He dully recognized his phone going off a few times, but was in no mood to answer it.  Instead, after locking up for the evening, he told Lane and Cesar both to take the next day off; he would be doing the same.

Lane, for a moment, looked like she was going to ask, but seemed to think better of it before grabbing her things and leaving.

Cesar did ask, and was promptly scooted out the door without further explanation.

Luke lay on his bed restlessly, an arm over his eyes and his chest tight with anxiety and concern.  A lot of what Rory had said was right, but then again, Rory had the tendency to be right in general.  Lorelai deserved a lot better than this, especially after the twists and turns and ups and downs between them.  She deserved a hell of a lot better than this.

Decision made, he picked up the phone to see if she’d like to meet up soon.  He ignored the texts and missed call from Chris, struggling to focus on at least doing what was best for everyone involved.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it was worth it!


	8. Just Give Me A Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lorelai finds out, albeit unintentionally. Chris thinks that maybe he isn't as important as he first thought. Luke tries to correct that thinking. Rory and Lorelai talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by LegacySoulReaver. As always, LSR, you have my undying love and affection for putting up with me and my habits.
> 
> Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Chris frowned as he fiddled with his phone.  The maid was whistling as she picked things up around the room, keeping an eye on whatever she was making them for lunch.  His phone remained unchanged since getting home the night before, save a few get-well texts from people at work after he had called to tell them he would be out for a week.

Well, the doctor had said five days, but Chris had never been one to not take advantage of a situation to get out of work.

His phone still remained dark, and he resolutely put it on the table before readjusting the pillow beneath his knee.  The TV was on lowly, but he wasn’t really watching.  Luke hadn’t answered his phone last night, nor was he answering any texts.  It wasn’t completely unlike him, Chris supposed, but then again, he thought they had made some headway in whatever they were doing.

Of course, he was sure Rory had spoken to Luke, but it couldn’t have been _that_ bad, could it?

Well, Rory was much closer to the situation from a different perspective, he supposed, and when he really thought about it, he wasn’t all together sure of how bad the problems between Luke and Lorelai were, or if maybe Lorelai really did want to fix it.  Insecurity curled hot in his belly, ugly and heavy as heat rushed into his face.

What if Luke was just sabotaging it because he was afraid to try and make it work with Lorelai?  That definitely put Chris in rebound territory, and he was getting too old for that game.  What if Chris himself was mucking things up, confusing Luke and all around making things worse?

Chris snorted in self-deprecation.  Certainly wouldn’t be the first time he had fucked everything up for everyone by doing something impulsive and stupid.  On the other hand, none of this felt even _remotely_ stupid.  It felt…well, it felt good and new and interesting, and he really didn’t want to lose it, even if Luke could be about as even-tempered as a junkyard dog on steroids.

Honestly, there was something…endearing about the way Luke had a fierce temper when it mattered.  There were times it wasn’t, but the times he was at his most hot-headedness, it was over someone he cared about, and Chris had to give him props for that, because it had taken Chris _years_ to learn how to take a stand when it really mattered.

Like when his parents and Lorelai’s parents were planning their lives out from the moment of Rory’s conception.  Lorelai had been brave enough; he hadn’t.  It had taken 16 years for him to be brave enough to even try to be a part of her life, the full emotional weight of Lorelai simply leaving a gaping maw of emptiness and abandonment in him, and even when he _had_ decided to try again, that had nearly fallen apart as well.

Chris crossed his arms, wincing as the bandages rubbed against various scrapes while his ribs gave off a dull achy throb.  He sipped at the coffee on the table, eyeing the prescription bottle of mild painkillers.  He’d never been a fan of being too doped up, so he let them be and sipped the water.

The maid returned with a plate of food.

Chris frowned at it; he really wasn’t that hungry anymore.  But Rosa was nothing if not formidable when making sure he ate, so he dutifully picked it up and thanked her before picking away at it.  It was hard to make the fear go away, that maybe Luke was just using him as a distraction from the trouble he was having with Lorelai.  It made his throat seize up a little, because it did make perfect sense—maybe Luke was trying to ruin something on purpose because it was easier if Lorelai left him, and then down the road, if this thing between the two men went south, Luke would be able to blame Chris, both for the end of him and Lorelai, and the end of their thing now.

Maybe he was better off thinking that Luke was just confused and going through a rough patch and looking for anything to stall thinking about it.  Chris sighed again, running a hand through his hair and over his face.  Maybe apologizing to Lorelai for monopolizing some of Luke’s time would be better too—she needed to know, after all, that it wasn’t completely Luke’s fault that he wasn’t around for him and Lorelai to talk it out.  She needed to know that it probably wasn’t entirely Luke’s fault that maybe the man didn’t feel like talking it out when Chris was letting him vent and taking his side.

Maybe she needed to know the truth.

Chris sat up gingerly.  Not today, naturally.  Besides, if Chris knew his daughter, then she’d had words for Luke as he’d left the hospital.  Rory hadn’t been terribly forthcoming on the way to his apartment, but she had said enough that he knew it wasn’t so much she was disapproving of it; it was that it wasn’t fair to Lorelai at all to keep her in the dark if Luke and Chris were going to date.

The smirk that twitched on his lips couldn’t be helped as he remembered the tight and uncomfortable look on Rory’s face.  He knew it wasn’t funny, but like any other father, he always found it amusing to see Rory or Gigi embarrassed by picturing him in any other role than the titular celibate father.

The smile faded, and Chris lay back on the pillows with a grunt of pain.  Rosa poked her head in the room and pointed sternly at the plate.  He nodded at her and obediently began to eat.

So, not today, but soon.  When he could move without it feeling like he was being dragged by a truck, he would surprise Lorelai in Stars Hollow and have a heart-to-heart.  That would be enough time for Luke and Lorelai to have talked a little.

XXXXX

Lorelai pensively traced her fingers over the edge of her martini, which was in a Happy Days glass instead of a proper glass, but she preferred it that way.  It tasted better when it wasn’t in the usual martini-shaped vessel, accompanied by the familiar, dulcet tones of disapproval.  Wind blew sharp and cold from a window cracked open a little in her kitchen, the smell of snow scenting it without fail.

Maybe a hot toddy would be better tonight.

Before she could think more on it, the knock came on the door.  It was earlier than they had discussed, but Luke had always been more than punctual.  However, when she answered the door, it wasn’t Luke.

It was Chris.

She frowned.  “Okay, so you’re pretty much the last person I even _remotely_ want to see right now.  As in I’d really like you to just Kevin Bacon yourself into the next degree of invisible and just dance your way out of here,” she said warningly.

Chris sighed.  “Look, a lot of this is _my_ fault, okay?  I’m going through something weird right now.  I’ve just sent Gigi off to Europe, I’m feeling a little lonely, and this thing with Luke…it’s not like I _meant_ for it to happen, okay?  We were arguing, and—“

“What do you mean, this _thing_ with Luke?” Lorelai asked in confusion, her shoulders rising as she backed away.

“We kissed, okay?  It just _happened_ ; I didn’t mean for it to, and—“ Chris stopped when he saw the shock color Lorelai’s face before the blood drained away from her cheeks.  “And…you didn’t know.”

Lorelai stared over Chris’s shoulder to where Luke was standing, slack-jawed and looking both red and a little angry in the face, on her front lawn.  “You _what_?  I’m sorry; did Liberace and Harvey Milk decide to have a recruiting seminar?”

“No, it wasn’t like that, Lore; it just…it just _happened_ , and it was my fault anyway, and I just wanted to get that _straight_ —“

“Really poor choice of words, Christopher.  Why don’t you go home?  Haven’t you done enough?” Lorelai snapped, and ignored the sharp flinch on Chris’s face when she used his full name.  “Or are you waiting around to see if you can get a two-for-one deal with both of us?”

“Lorelai, that’s not fair,” Luke interjected, pulling Chris down the steps and behind him.  “You’re mad at me; I was coming over to tell you what happened and that I wanted to fix us.”

“No, I’m pretty damn sure I’m mad at both of you,” Lorelai snapped, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes.  She pushed Luke aside, looking down at Chris.  “No, I’m _furious_.  I’m hurt.  I’m one step away from becoming a freaking _axe_ murderer.”  She crossed her arms.  “Next thing you know, I’ll be hearing who didn’t have sexual relations with _who_.”  She started heading for her door.

“Lore, wait!” Chris called.  “I just wanted to _help_!”

Luke pushed him back again.  “Seriously, _not helping_ ,” he hissed and turned back.  “I came over here to talk to you!”

However, the look on Lorelai’s face at seeing him interact so closely with Chris was clear in the way her shoulders tensed further and she backed towards the entrance to her house.

Lorelai opened her door and stared at both of them, still shaking with the utter shock of what had been revealed.  “Just…look, I’m done with this right now.  Just…get out.  Both of you.”  She shut the door behind her, her skin numb and feeling stretched far too tight over her bones.

It was just…too much.  Luke and Christopher?  When the hell had that happened?  Better yet, _how_?

Lorelai curled up on the couch, resuming her viewing of “The Sting” and proceeded to prefer losing herself in the complicated, silly plot and Robert Redford’s good looks than think about _anything_ that had just happened in her front yard (she can’t hear anything, she can’t hear anything, she can’t hear anything, and _seriously_ , can they _not_ have it out in front of her house, _Christ almighty_ ).

She turned up the volume as loud as she dared (hey, it was Luke’s own fault if Babette overheard anything; he knew how close her house was) and also ruled out the channel she was watching when “The Sting” ended and “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” came on next.

XXXXX

Luke dropped his hands to his sides as the door shut.  He looked at Chris with little less than accusation and blatant anger.  “What the hell are you even doing here?” he snapped.

Chris immediately backed up, hands raised in defense.  “You think I did this on purpose?  How the hell was I supposed to know you hadn’t talked to her yet?  I haven’t heard from you in a _week_.  I’m fine, by the way; not even on a liquid diet anymore.”  He couldn’t keep the hurt from his expression, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to or needed to.  “Thanks for asking.”

Luke tried to ignore the pain both on Chris’s face and dark in his chest.  “Don’t change the subject.  Why are you here?  I hadn’t even _talked_ to her yet!”

“It’s been a week!  What kind of time do you run on, something close to the event horizon of a black hole?” Chris asked, pacing restlessly and trying to put distance between himself and Luke.  The last time they were arguing in close proximity, things had ended…well, interestingly, but he wasn’t sure Lorelai’s front lawn was the right place to do it.  “I thought you’d had a chance to decompress, think about things…whatever it is you’re ignoring my calls and texts to debate with yourself!”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I was ignoring you for a _reason_?  I’m supposed to be trying to fix things with Lorelai, and that has to start with the truth!  Rory made that perfectly clear,” Luke retorted angrily.  “And hanging out with you, doing—“ He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.  “I can’t keep getting distracted by you when I’m supposed to be making things better for everyone.”

Chris frowned incredulously.  “So you think ignoring whatever we’ve got so you can get back together with Lore is going to magically make things better?”  There was an anticipatory hurt in his gut, not unlike the one he’d had a week ago when debating if his involvement was wanted, or simply Luke’s way of stalling and sabotaging a relationship.  “You’ll have to excuse me, but that sounds like martyrdom bullshit to me.  You’re going back to the same old patterns, sacrificing everything because you think if you do what’s expected, everyone will be happy.”

Luke rolled his eyes, his hands fidgeting nervously as if Chris’s comment had hit too close.  “No, I’m doing what I _want_.  _You_ are a distraction, you’re a _reason_ to justify and excuse me avoiding this confrontation with Lorelai.  Every time we get together or hang out, things get weird and then I’m fucked up for a few days, and I can’t even _think_ about anything other than _you_!”

Chris dropped his hands helplessly with a defeated look.  “I don’t know what you want me to do.”  He pressed the fingers of his right hand to his forehead in stress, his other hand clutching at his hip.  “I thought…look, I thought I was trying to _help_ ; I wasn’t doing this on purpose; you’ve got to know that.”  He started heading back towards his car, the plans for his evening involving the drive back to his place and submerging himself into so much programming code that it wouldn’t matter what had transpired here tonight.

Maybe he would call Sherri…see if he could come and visit Gigi, see some other sights.  What country had Gigi gone to again?  Sherri was still in France, that he knew…but he seemed to remember thinking that Gigi’s boarding school was in England…maybe Spain?  Or was it Switzerland?  Or was that some movie he had watched with Lorelai that she had insisted upon once they’d gotten married and were trying to make up for lost time by having a marathon of little more than movies, sex, play-time with Gigi, visiting with a stressed Rory—

His mind was running manic circles, thoughts twisting together until it was a non-stop stream of anxious, half-formed ideas when it was stopped tersely by a pair of hands on his shoulders.  He was led just as abruptly to the dark shadows of the passenger’s side of his car, where Luke had him promptly shoved against the door panel.

Luke’s hands were fisted into his shirt, holding him still and halting the endless chaos in his head.  “What I want…” Luke trailed off gruffly, his voice hoarse and just a bit broken.

Chris swallowed hard, and hesitantly wrapped his hands around Luke’s wrists.  He flicked his gaze nervously to the front door of Lorelai’s house, but he couldn’t see much beyond the top of his car.  “We can’t do this here.”

Luke’s eyes were furiously bright and sharp.  “Why the hell do I even want this?” he muttered in question.  He hesitated haltingly, fingers stuttering against the side of Chris’s neck.  “I…”  He swallowed obviously, Adam’s Apple bobbing against the skin of his throat.  A callused thumb stroked the edge of visible skin around Chris’s shirt.  “I _can’t_ want this.”

“You think I wanted this in my life any more than you did?” Chris responded, his breath short and his voice raspy as he squirmed back against his car.  “You’re acting like this only affects you.  Lorelai is the mother of my _daughter_ , and while she no longer dictates how often I get to be there, Rory _does_ and listens to her more than me.”

Luke sighed, his head dropping slightly and the gentle touch slowing.  He seemed to think for a moment before extricating himself from Chris’s personal space.  “You know what?  You’re right; we can’t do this.”  He pulled back.

Chris felt a shot of hot rejection curl outward from his chest, his entire stature drooping in defeat.  “I get it.  It’s fine, you know?  I know it was easier for you to…” He gestured half-heartedly between the two of them.  “Let _this_ go so you can fix things.  Well, let _me_ go; I get it.”

Luke shook his head in frustration.  “We can’t talk about this _here_ is what I meant.”  He gave Chris a wary stare.  “Come back to my place?”

Chris nodded with a dry throat.  “I know the way.”

Luke nodded shortly, and shot a glance over Chris’s car briefly.  He sighed, looked down, and suddenly snagged the sides of Chris’s face in both hands, kissing him hard and quickly.  “Be there.”

Chris nodded, his heart pounding in his throat and skull.  “I will.”

Luke nodded shortly before starting his truck and leaving.

Chris stood there stupidly for about five minutes, unsure of _what_ was supposed to happen once he got to Luke’s place, before he got into his car and left in the direction of the diner.

XXXXX

Lorelai threw the remote to the side, where it hit the pillow with a thump.  Exhausted but not the least bit sleepy, she retreated to her room and flopped on the bed, staring pensively at the ceiling.  She reflexively fisted the sheets in one hand, the other inching toward the phone.  She wasn’t sure she was up to calling Rory just yet, but the emotions were fit to burst from her chest John Hurt-style.  Her eyes were dry even though she felt a little like crying, but it seemed the anger was preventing it from happening.

It dredged up long-lost (though still vivid) memories of Rory’s refusal to wallow.  Lorelai wasn’t entirely certain it was the same thing, but maybe it was…well, it kind of felt that way?  She and Luke had had so many ups and downs, so many breaks and reunions, so many… _everythings_ it felt like.  But this…this…

This was _insane_ and weird and hurtful and had she _really_ driven two different men to become Neil and David?  She dug her head more firmly into her pillow until it suddenly occurred to her that Rory might already _know_.  She’d mentioned Chris’s motorcycle accident, that she’d gone to see him in the hospital…she just hadn’t mentioned if anyone _else_ was there.

Lorelai bolted upright in the bed and snagged her phone.  It rang several times before going to voicemail.

_“Hi, you’ve got Rory.  Either my nails are wet or I’m writing an article.  Whichever, I can’t pick up right now, so leave a message or text me!”_

Rolling her eyes, Lorelai tapped her screen to hang up, and began calling in sporadic bursts that varied from letting it ring once, thrice, to voicemail again, and then sometimes twice until her phone vibrated with a text notification.

_“Seriously, I have a deadline.  You want to keep Glenn Close’ing me, kill Paris and then_ maybe _I’ll call back.”_

Lorelai smirked weakly before texting a reply.

_“But I won’t be ignored, Dan.  CALL ME.  Its important.”_

As expected, her phone began a jaunty tune of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” (though she would _never_ admit it to Emily), and she answered it promptly, but before she could get a word in, Rory had already started talking.

“Look, this better be important or I swear to God, I will kill my _own_ rabbit…well, Paris, since you know, I implied she’s my pet, which _seriously_ , she’s been calling or texting every half hour on the damn hour during her stupid internship, and I can’t get _rid_ of her, so honestly, whether I kill her or you do, as long as they don’t find the damn body, I think I’ll be okay.”

Lorelai sighed, looking into her lap.  “When your dad had his accident…was there anyone else at the hospital with him?”

The hesitant beat that followed was just enough confirmation.

“Well…no one important.  Dad was pretty loopy on pain medication or something; who knows what phone number he gave out?  Besides, I talked to Dad, and he’s okay and everything.  He said he’d been meaning to talk to you about something anyway, and would talk to you later?”

Lorelai half-chuckled, half-scoffed.  “I appreciate you trying to hide this, kid.  I do.  It’s a real doozy…but I also thought we agreed a long time ago that you’d stop with the whole “not telling me things about your dad because you feel like you can’t” thing.”

There was a prolonged sigh and silence over the phone.  “Mom…it wasn’t that I _wanted_ to hide it; it just…it wasn’t my business honestly.  You and Luke…whatever Dad and Luke are doing…it’s all between you guys, and I felt like it wasn’t my place—no matter _who_ put me in that position—to deliver this kind of news.”

“Rory, my only child, my love, my light, my _life_ …”  Lorelai sighed haggardly.  “I really could have used _any_ kind of warning.  Red flag, signal flares, smoke signals…hell, you could have sent a singing telegram, and I would’ve been okay, kid.  _Any_ kind of warning would be better than this.”

Rory sighed again over the phone.  “Mom, look…it _really_ wasn’t my place, not to mention I _really_ didn’t want anything to do with it.  I take it Luke told you tonight?”

“What do you mean, did “Luke tell me tonight”?  Your dad showed up on my doorstep and told me for him.”  Lorelai fiddled her free hand in her lap, nails scraping against the pads of her fingers in anxiety because of the recently unfolded scene on her front lawn.  “Got to stand there while Luke pushed Christopher behind him with closely-whispered words not meant for anyone but them, and I had no _warning_.”

“Mom, I’m telling you—it wasn’t my place.”  Rory quickly saved the document she was working on with a quick keyboard shortcut and turned in her chair.  “I would’ve been telling you myself in two days, because that was the ultimatum I gave Luke.  At the end of the day though, this is all between Luke and you and Dad.  I don’t want to be in this kind of position where if I see Luke and Dad together, I’m supposed to tell you because _none_ of this is my business.  I’m sorry no one said anything yet and that you found out this way, but I can’t be messenger for Dad.”

Lorelai sighed this time, a long moment of silence passing before she spoke again.  “You’re right, you know?  I don’t know why I thought you would’ve called me immediately, I guess.”  She bit her lower lip briefly before staring up at her ceiling again.  “So…Luke was there?”

Rory had been jotting notes, but now tossed her pencil down.  “Yeah, he was there.  Who knows why Dad gave that number out?  I don’t even want to know _how_ he got Luke’s number anyway.”  Rory toyed with her pencil briefly, rolling it back and forth over her legal pad of paper.  “Mom…I don’t know what they’re doing either, but for what it’s worth, I don’t think they _meant_ to keep it secret from you, not on purpose, anyway.”  She let her pencil drop between her fingers in a rhythmic tap on the paper.  “I don’t know how to feel about it either, if it helps.”

Lorelai sniffed a bit while she stilled her nervous hand.  “I think we both got Shyamalan’d a bit.”  She blew out a loud breath, crossing her free arm over her chest.  “We can both agree though…it’s weird, right?”

There was a pause before Rory replied.  “Well, it’s weird, but…”  Lorelai could practically see Rory letting go of her pencil again (as indicated by the quiet tap she heard over the phone) in a burst of thought that couldn’t be contained.  “I want you to be happy…but you and Luke…you’ve tried _so_ hard for _so_ long that I don’t know that either of you have really stopped to think about what either of you _really_ want.  Is it because you really love him, that he loves you…or is it because you’ve both wanted it for so long that you don’t know any different and think it’s what you’re _supposed_ to want?”

Lorelai didn’t reply for long enough that when she realized Rory was still there, she was surprised that her daughter had hung on the line.  “I don’t know,” she said lamely, because there were too many thoughts spiraling from her mind to her chest, settling into an uncomfortable knot in her stomach.  “I really don’t.”

Rory sighed sympathetically.  “You know…I kind of felt the same way with Logan.  I mean, not as _long_ -term as you and Luke, obviously.  But it was like…it was more _his_ expectation that we would get married and stuff, versus what _we_ actually _wanted_.  At the end of the day…” Rory took a deep breath before continuing.  “At the end of the day,” she repeated, “I had to really think about what _I_ wanted instead of what he _thought_ “we” wanted.  And I think you and Luke should do the same.”

Lorelai wanted to thumb her nose so _badly_ at her daughter giving _her_ advice, especially when it sounded _far_ too similar to what her mother had said barely days before.  She settled for frowning grumpily at her comforter and trying to dissect the chips in her nail polish, because both were easier than admitting that Rory’s words were pretty damn wise (and seriously, she really did raise a pretty great kid).

“Mom?” Rory’s voice asked, but it sounded distant compared to the drum of her own thoughts.

Lorelai shook her head to knock away the self-reflection.  “Yeah, I’m here.”  She smiled with an exhale of breath that indicated she had solved little, if anything.  “Was just thinking a little.”

Rory sounded encouraging.  “I bet you guys will figure it out, for better or for worse.”

Lorelai laughed weakly, because Rory’s words sounded like the marriage vows that she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be taking with Luke.  “Yeah,” she said less heartily than she felt, “For better or for worse.”

She thought privately to herself as she started readying for bed that maybe they’d have a heck of an easier time figuring things out if Luke would stop looking for a reason to end it, and if Chris would stop being that reason.

XXXXXXXXXX


	9. Just A Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taylor is nosy. Friday night dinner goes on. Chris wonders about how and why he's attracted to Luke if he isn't gay. Emily talks to Luke, and Luke decides maybe he needs something else.

Chris sat uneasily behind the wheel after parking it behind Luke’s truck.  His stomach was tied up in hard knots, and he was having trouble swallowing as his mouth had suddenly gone cotton-dry.  He reached for the bottle of water that was in the cup holder, but it was empty.  A number of town folk were still meandering around with the diner still open with Lane and Cesar bustling around the few people having coffee or a late dessert.

His hesitant stalling was interrupted by Luke tapping on his window.  Chris rolled it down, and felt somewhat stupid when he realized he had followed Luke to the diner to talk.

“I’d rather not do this here either,” Luke said dryly, eyeing a couple of passerby’s warily.

Chris rolled the window back up and slid out of his car with Luke hurriedly showing him the way to the back entrance of the diner where deliveries normally happened.

“Ah, Luke!  I’ve been meaning to catch you for two weeks now.  You’ve gotten quite good at giving me the slip, you clever young man,” a boisterous voice rang out from behind them.

Luke swore sharply under his breath before pushing Chris behind him again.  “Taylor, now is _really_ not a good time.”

Taylor frowned at him, wagging a disapproving finger as he approached them.  “Now, Lucas…the lease on my soda shoppe lapsed twenty-three days ago, and I really wanted to discuss terms, such as amount paid in rent, what you, as the owner is responsible for in regards to repairs, terms of the renewal for lease—“ He stopped abruptly, peering over Luke’s shoulder.  “Why, Christopher!  I _thought_ I’d overheard Miss Patty mention you on the phone.  What on earth are you doing back in our little neck of the woods?”

 There was a slight condescension to his tone that Chris couldn’t quite pinpoint but set his teeth on edge.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, cringing inwardly at the curiosity that had washed over Taylor’s face and at the very fact Miss Patty was somehow involved, because god knows if they were shouting loud enough at Lorelai’s, then it was likely that Babette had her best friend on speed dial, just waiting for the scene to play out.

Chris shouldered past Luke with no small amount of effort as Luke was giving an unusual measure of resistance.  “I’m just having a cup of coffee with a friend,” he said charmingly enough, smiling easily in the sort of way that made him feel like he was twelve and at Barry Lowenstein’s bar mitzvah all over again.

Taylor rocked backward, apparently not trying at all to hide his open nosiness.  “Well, isn’t _that_ interesting,” he hedged, the gears visibly turning behind his eyes.  “And uh…no Lorelai tonight, Luke?”

Luke ground his teeth together in an effort to keep his cool.  “She’s having a night in, not that it’s any of your damn business.”

“Language, Lucas,” said Taylor, waggling that damn finger in his face again.  “There are still children moseying about, in case you hadn’t noticed.  Such words are not meant for their tender ears!”

Luke declined to mention some of the words the third-graders had been dropping when he’d gone to the school to help with another theatre set.  “Sorry, Taylor,” he muttered, not sounding (or feeling, for that matter) sorry at all.  “I’m kind of in a hurry, so tell you what.  I will be at the soda shoppe, first thing in the morning, to discuss whatever you’d like to talk about _within reason_ ,” he finished pointedly, because Taylor’s face had practically lit up.

Taylor rolled his eyes humorously enough, seemingly satisfied by that.  “Well, alright; if you’re absolutely busy now, I _suppose_ I can try to find time during my morning rush _and_ yours, for that matter.  Or we can just discuss it at my lawyer’s office; I believe Nicole is still handling this lease?”

Chris had never seen the color simultaneously drain and fill back up in a person’s face that fast before.

Luke turned apologetically to him, blocking Taylor’s view of them.  “Look…this man is going to make my life a living hell if I don’t do this now.  Rain check?”

Chris sighed, but nodded.  “I get it, I really do.”

Luke frowned, because there was a certain shade of defeat on Chris’s face that indicated Chris really didn’t get it at all.  “I’ll call you, okay?”

Chris tilted his head suspiciously, his stomach knotting up again.  “Just like last week then, huh.”

Luke gave a frustrated grunt-cum-growl.  “ _No_ , not like last week.  Would you stop being an ass for five seconds?  I _promise_ , okay?”

“I’ll hold you to it.”  Chris shoved his hands into his pockets as a sharp wind blew past them.

“I’m waiting, Lucas!” Taylor said loudly.

“For the love of god,” Luke muttered and turned to glare at Taylor.  “Keep your shirt on; I’ll be right there!”  He turned back to Chris.  “So, tomorrow?  And see if you can’t keep yourself out of the hospital this time around?”

Chris’s lips twitched in a parody of a smile.  “No promises; the nurses were hot and the company was great.”

Luke felt the tips of his ears turn red.  “I’d…” He stopped haltingly, his voice catching in his throat.  “I can’t, not with Taylor standing right there.  The whole town’s going to know by the morning anyway.”

Chris shrugged it off though.  “It’s a small town.  It’s only as interesting as the next scandal.”  He bumped past Luke’s shoulder in a friendly, almost affectionate manner on his way back to his car.

Luke turned with a heavy sigh, his gut roiling in frustration and tension as he glared at Taylor.  He certainly hoped that his argument with Chris wasn’t an indication of how he was handling arguments in general now.  He shuddered a bit as the thought of kissing _Taylor_ naturally followed, and he almost lost what little dinner he’d had.

“So, I have your _full_ attention now, Lucas?  Honestly, Christopher looked a mite disappointed,” Taylor said conversationally as they walked toward the soda shoppe.  “I believe Miss Patty said he and Lorelai were fighting.  Or was that you she heard?”

 _Goddamn town full of fucking eavesdroppers, jeez._ “None of your business, Taylor,” Luke gritted out.  “Just show me what you want to debate on the lease so I can get back to the diner for closing.  I’ve been letting Lane and Cesar handle too much of it lately, and I’ve still gotta open up in the morning.  So if you could just make this short and sweet—“

Taylor laughed gregariously.  “Oh, leases are never short and sweet.”

Luke groaned inwardly as his fists clenched reflexively in preparation for what was to come.

XXXXX

As they were wont to do, Friday night dinner was upon Lorelai, and she was desperately thinking of different ways to get out of it.  Though things between her and her mother were better now more than ever, she really just didn’t feel like going out tonight.  She kind of wanted to sit in, watch old movies, and maybe get _just_ buzzed enough that she couldn’t feel feelings anymore.

Luke had called twice while Christopher went the quieter route and slowly texted her to death.  She hadn’t responded to either one, still processing the fact that they had _kissed_.  Were they dating?  Was Luke rebounding?  Had Chris lost his _ever-loving mind_?  The questions were endless, and if it hadn’t been for the fact it had hurt that badly to find out at all, she probably would have started writing them down.

As it stood, she had secretly taken a page from Rory’s book and made a pro-con list for trying to patch things up with Luke and (though she abhorred the idea and would have rather had to pick only one movie she could ever watch for the rest of her life) for the unlikely situation in which Luke and Chris _were_ dating.

It wasn’t necessarily for her, of course; more her feelings on the subject.  She had given up on it when she realized she was scribbling too much and half-tearing the paper in certain areas.

Lorelai glanced at the clock with a huff.  Rory had promised to come pick her up by 5:30 for the drive to Hartford, citing she could use a weekend in the Hollow before her next assignment.  Lorelai also suspected Rory was worried about her and trying to hover.

Which, while very sweet and _so_ like Rory, she wasn’t sure she wanted _anyone_ around this weekend.  Except she had Friday night dinner with her mother, an event at the inn on Saturday, and Luke’s voicemails had indicated he would be free on Sunday if she wanted to talk, and boy did she _so_ not feel like talking.

“Mom, you ready?” Rory’s voice called out from below.  “Or shall I tell your gentleman caller you’re still primping?”

“If there’s a gentleman caller here, you’d better kick his butt right out unless it’s Brad Pitt,” Lorelai hollered back, not moving from where she lay on the bed, not even remotely _close_ to being ready.  “Especially since he split with Angelina, he’s free now!”

Lorelai winced when she heard Rory make a titter of disappointment.  “Mom, you’re not ready!  What are you wearing tonight?”

Lorelai sat up.  “What, I can’t wear sweats and a Go-go’s tee shirt to Friday night dinner?” she asked as seriously as she could.  “And I’m serious, if Brad Pitt comes a’knocking…”

Rory shook her head.  “I don’t know, Angelina Jolie can be kind of weird…I mean, the whole blood thing?  And really, Billy Bob?”

“Billy Bob is distinguished enough,” Lorelai said.  “Though he can’t be forgiven for Bad News Bears.”  She flinched when Rory threw a dress her way.  “Hey!  What do I look like, a wardrobe?  Go ahead and call the Pevensie kids on in!”

Rory frowned at her.  “Friday night dinner.  Up.  Dressed.  Let’s go before I throw the shoes at you too.”

Lorelai sighed.  “You can’t get me out of this one?  I’d owe you big time, kid.  Maybe not the buy you a Lamborghini big, but big enough to buy you coffee for a year.”

Rory stared at her stubbornly.  “You had to miss last Friday night for that wedding at the inn that the bridezilla wouldn’t let Michel touch.”

“To be fair, he pissed her off in pretty much the first ten minutes she spoke with him and implied her wedding was a cheesy cliché, right down to the name of her and her husband…oh, and the way they’re going to hyphenate their last names,” Lorelai pointed out.  She sighed and grabbed Rory’s hand, pulling her to sit on the bed.  “Seriously, kid…I just don’t feel like going anywhere tonight.”

Rory sighed.  “I really think you ought to go.  Grandma makes you feel better sometimes, and—hey, don’t give me that look!” she interjected at Lorelai’s sour face that clearly said _really_?  “I just don’t think it’s good for you to stay cooped up like this.  I mean, I know it was only a few days ago, but Grandma will _know_ something’s up if you don’t go, and I’m sorry, but I’m not lying to her about this.”  She crossed her arms tightly.  “I don’t even want any _part_ of it, but if you don’t go two Fridays in a row, she’ll think you’re mad at her or something, and _I_ think you need to eat something other than Al’s or Joe’s, okay?”

She stood up, and firmly tugged her mother up as well.

“Now come on, Lorelai Victoria.  You’re a _Gilmore_!”

Lorelai huffed.  “Hooraysies for daisies, I’m a damn Gilmore.”

XXXXX

Emily patiently held her tongue through drinks and most of dinner, though Rory did most of the talking.  From the minute the girls had shown up, she could see that things had gotten worse on Lorelai’s end.  She always loved Rory’s animated, cheerful attitude, but she kept eyes on Lorelai as if she was going to do a magic trick any moment now.

“So yeah, that last assignment was pretty huge,” Rory said, trying mostly to distract her grandmother from peering at her mom, who had been unusually quiet most of the evening and had barely touched her food.  “Big ol’ meth bust.  They arrested like fifteen people!  Oh, and mom, you’ll love this too—the bust went down on a road called River Road, and we got to call it “Rolling on the River” for the headline!” Rory finished off, practically bouncing in her chair to get one of their attentions.

“That’s nice, I’ll have to tell Jackson,” Lorelai replied, pushing around the green beans on her plate.

Emily wiped her mouth and watched Rory this time.  Her granddaughter’s shoulders drooped just slightly in defeat and her eyes finally gave Emily the go-ahead to inquire.

“You’ve been very quiet tonight, Lorelai,” Emily said, trying to keep her tone light and gentle.  “The food not to your liking?”

Lorelai sighed willfully.  “The food’s fine, Mom.  I’m just quiet and tired.  It’s been a long week, and I’ve still got the weekend to get through.”

Emily nodded understandingly, because even she could see the tired lines on her daughter’s face.  “And do you have any plans with Luke?”

And there it was—Lorelai’s shoulders immediately stiffened and her lip twitched in defense.  “ _No_ , Mom—no plans with Luke.”  Lorelai jabbed her fork into the roast viciously.  “Maybe you should ask _Christopher_ ,” she muttered and immediately regretted it.  God, _why_ did she always have to blab something out as an aside to herself?  Her mother had hearing like a damn bat.

Or was it bloodhound?  Hawk?

Either way, Emily’s gaze narrowed and she zeroed in on the overheard tidbit like stink on skunk.  “Oh, honestly—are they still gallivanting around?  I _told_ Christopher that it was an unimaginably bad idea for them to be friends, bad even by Christopher’s standards of poorly thought ideas.  Why on _earth_ wouldn’t he listen to me?”

“Chris is his own person, Mom; don’t take it personally,” Lorelai retorted.  “Besides, takes two to tango.”

Emily frowned.  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s not like Luke’s shoving him away for free time either.”  Lorelai dropped her fork to her napkin.  “Listen, mom…I _really_ don’t want to talk about this right now.  I’m not even that hungry.  Rory convinced me to come since I missed last Friday night, and I really do have a long weekend at the inn.  So can you just for _once_ respect my privacy and let me _not_ talk about this?”

Emily nodded reluctantly, wishing as only a mother could that she could take the pain from her daughter’s eyes (and, frankly, dump it right back onto Luke and Christopher, because it sounded like there was much more to the story than what Lorelai was saying).

“So,” Emily said, placing her napkin on the table.  “Dessert?”  She stood to fetch the maid (who was it this week?  Helga?  Or maybe it was Germaine?) and gently clapped a hand to Lorelai’s shoulder.  “We’re having chocolate pudding.”

Lorelai gave her a weak smile at that, with Rory nodding an encouraging grin as well.  It may have taken decades, but Emily was reasonably certain she was finally getting used to navigating her daughter.

XXXXX

While it hadn’t been the next day, Luke had texted Chris at least, explaining that he was sorry, but the diner had been slammed all day and by the time Luke had finally gotten to bed, he’d fallen asleep without taking his shoes off.

Chris felt some of the tight knots of worry in his chest loosen at that.  Sure, he hadn’t _called_ —and jesus fucking Christ, he sounded like a damn _girl_.

Not for the first time, Chris wished heartily that he wasn’t such a coward that he couldn’t figure his way around the whole “gay” thing, because he was (unsurprisingly) fairly close to having a complete and utter breakdown over it.  He wondered if Luke was having the same problem.

Chris shook the thoughts away and forcibly tried to immerse himself in playing a shooter game to take his mind off of it.  It worked—just not for long, and before he realized it, his character had died six times and he was only a quarter of the way through the level.  Swearing sharply, Chris resolutely turned it off.

Running his hands through his hair, he bent forward in thought.  Right then—so, was he gay?  He didn’t think so.  He’d never thought about it that hard before, seeing as he was like any other twelve-year-old boy and had started noticing girls and _only_ girls.  Maybe it was just something about Luke then?

Well, then again, they _had_ been arguing and in each other’s space.  Luke didn’t seem the touchy-feely type, but in the weeks leading up to the kiss, he had seemed comfortable enough being close to Chris.  Chris himself didn’t really have a personal bubble, so to speak, as his co-workers were all too happy to point out.  Then again, working in coding and programming, one had to be somewhat okay with people leaning over your shoulder or sidling up next to your computer screen.

Right, so, gay?

Chris really didn’t think so.  He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat that had suddenly formed, because if he couldn’t figure this out, how in the name of God was he supposed to figure everything else out?  For Christ’s sake, the only thing he knew with any degree of certainty was that he definitely wanted to get up close and personal with Luke again.  But how far after that?

He nibbled absently at this thumbnail, a habit he’d had and periodically broken and re-broken all his life.  Looked like it was back again with a vengeance.  He sighed and leaned back against the couch.  God, none of this was easy.

Then again, as his grandfather used to say, anything in life worth having was worth working for.

And that was the meat of it, wasn’t it?  Did Chris think this was worth the work, the agitation, the frustration?  What if the whole kiss, the whole relationship, was simply built on pent-up stress and tension?  That if they weren’t arguing, what would they be doing?  What if it couldn’t work _without_ it?

And jeez, he was going to give himself an aneurysm.  He looked at his ragged thumbnail and headed to the bathroom to trim it quickly.  So, not only was he going to give himself an aneurysm, but no doubt the pathologist would tsk-tsk at his hands and mutter about nail-biters dying early anyway.

Chris washed his hands just as the knock on his door came.  “Coming!” he yelled back and dried his hands quickly.  He hoped just the smallest amount (okay, maybe more than small) that it was Luke, and as such, was simply disappointed that the maid had returned—she had forgotten her key to the door was all.

Rosa swept past him, leaving Chris to stare at the empty hallway before reluctantly shutting the door.  At least it hadn’t been Emily again with one of her famous heart-to-hearts.

XXXXX

Luke settled into his recliner with bone-deep satisfaction at finally getting to sit down.  Sundays were frequently hit or miss for patronage, but this one had been particularly busy.  Even Lane’s usual boundless energy was starting to wane when he finally closed up around 6:30 (okay, so maybe he’d hovered a little bit around Kirk and Lulu who were deeply engaged in their conversation but had been done eating for over half an hour), and now, all he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep the day away.

He swore and got up, remembering that he’d forgotten to flip the closed sign.  Even though he knew all the lights were off except the porch light and for all intents and purposes, one could _tell_ the damn diner was closed, knowing Taylor, Luke would catch it in the morning for not making it _clear_ that the establishment was closed by flipping a stupid sign.

Reluctantly, he dragged himself out of the recliner and ambled down the stairs to flip the aforementioned sign.  And, lucky him, there did appear to be someone standing at the door.

His heart dropped to his feet when he recognized the auburn hair and polite stature.  Taking a deep breath to prepare himself for whatever shitstorm Emily had decided to bring his way, Luke opened the door as he flipped the sign.

“We’re closed, actually,” he said, hoping it was friendly enough.

Emily pointed at it.  “But the sign says open.”

Luke sighed.  “Yeah, I forgot to flip it.”

Emily raised an eyebrow.  “You’d think a business owner such as yourself would have a better organized mind to remember to flip a little sign so that people are clear on the matter of your diner’s hours, which seem to fluctuate as the owner pleases.”

“They don’t—“ Luke stopped himself, because Emily had come for a reason, and he doubted it was to teach him to knit while they held high tea.  “What can I help you with, Mrs. Gilmore?”

“You’re not going to invite me in?” she asked with the clear indication that she thought he was being extremely rude.

“Uh…sure.  Come on in.”  He flipped on a light before she could comment on that as well.  “Would you like some coffee?”  He flipped one of the stools off the counter.

Emily was the only person Luke knew who could sit on a barstool as _primly_ as if it were a throne.  “I won’t be staying long.  I apologize for the lack of warning, but this was the only free hour I had today.”

“Funny, that…this is my only free hour too,” Luke mentioned as an aside, but his meaning was definitely received loud and clear by Emily.  He went ahead and started with the coffee just in case.

“Well, then I apologize for the intrusion, but this is important.  Are you going to reconcile with Lorelai?  Are you even willing to try?” she asked bluntly.

Luke swore as hot water splashed on his fingers.  “Of course I want to try!” he said defensively.  “Doesn’t Lorelai?”

Emily tilted her head in thought.  “Sometimes, I’m not so sure.  In any event, whatever is going on between you and Christopher…”

“Oh for the love of god, not this again,” Luke muttered, feeling about an inch away from losing his temper.  “We’re _friends_ , and _none_ of that is Lorelai’s business, let alone _yours_.”

“Friends, are you?” Emily asked, disbelief coloring her tone.  “My daughter seems to think it’s not quite that.”

Luke swallowed.  “And what gave her that idea?” he asked, hoping he sounded casual instead of guilty, because he really didn’t see Lorelai as the type to blather her dirty laundry to her mother.

“You know,” Emily said conversationally, which immediately riled Luke’s back up because _that_ M.O., he was all too familiar with.  “I was meeting with some of my friends in the D.A.R., and wouldn’t you know it?  One of them mentioned Christopher was in an accident recently.  You see, her son is an emergency room doctor at Windham, his wife is a nurse on the floor Christopher was on.  Of course, he’d never give up that silly motorcycle, no matter how much he’s been told how dangerous they are.  Thank god for helmets.”

Luke clutched the bar rag in his hands beneath the counter.  “Yeah, I heard something about his accident.  We’re friends, you know.”

Emily’s gaze sharpened.  “I’d imagine you would know; you were there all night with him.”  She leaned forward.  “Holding hands, no less.”

Luke practically felt most of the blood drain from his face, save the tips of his ears.  “Can’t imagine why anyone would think that.  He gave the doc my number when they brought him in; Rory came the next day.  I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

“Oh, it’s not like Rory to get mixed up in others’ private affairs.”

Luke ground his teeth, wondering if he’d rather be hashing out further details with Taylor about the lease or offering free coffee at the diner than doing this with Emily right now.  The woman used words as weapons, and her aim was deathly accurate.

“It’s not a private affair; they called me, I came,” Luke said shortly.  “And isn’t _that_ something—a Gilmore who _doesn’t_ know how to be a busybody.”

“I’m looking out for Lorelai,” Emily responded peevishly and irritable.  “Because you sure as hell don’t seem to be.  She’s _hurting_ , Luke.  Now, if you’re trying to patch things up and make this work, fine, do so.  But don’t you _dare_ stand there and _lie_ about your involvement with Christopher.  If you’re going to make this work, you two can _not_ be friends.”  She stood, indicating she would be leaving.  “If you’re going to _date_ him, by all means.  But make your intentions clear, because you can’t go back and forth on this the way you two always do.”

Luke couldn’t let go of the bar rag, and the words were drying up in his throat as he desperately searched for a reply.

Emily picked up her purse.  “Far be it upon me to tell you what to do—“

Luke looked up defiantly.  “You’ve got to be fuc—“

Emily held up her purse in warning.  “You will _not_ use that kind of filthy language around me.”  She lowered it again.  “I’m not one to tell you what to do, but I will tell you this.  You can and will do what you want.  You’re a terrible decision-maker, always have been, but once you’ve made your decision, you stick to it.  I can admire that, even respect it.  But this is _not_ a decision you can wait on.”

“Yes, Mrs. Gilmore,” Luke replied numbly.  “I’ll take your everlasting opinions into account.”

“Don’t be sassy to me, young man,” Emily retorted.  “This is not for me, not for you, not for Christopher, not even for Rory.  This is for Lorelai.  Whether you decide to make up and get married or you decide to date the father of her child is up to you.  As always, be prepared for whatever fallout you create from that decision.  Good night, Luke.”  She left quickly, the air of dismissal still heavy in the air.

Luke sighed, hanging his head.  How did _no one_ seem to understand that this was _no one’s_ business but his own?  He was having a hard enough time _not_ having an identity crisis over the whole guy-on-guy thing, and by god, he should be allowed to look at himself that closely if he wanted.

He turned the lights off, flipped the damn closed sign, and locked up.  He needed his bed.  He needed a shower.  He needed sleep.  He needed to get drunk and forget that the conversation had ever happened.  He just needed a damn second to really _think_ about everything without people shoving into things that had nothing to do with them.

Hell, maybe he needed a time machine so that he could go back and none of this with Chris had ever happened.  Strangely enough, his chest rebelled at that thought, tightening sharply as his heart snapped a terse beat against his ribs, because, as it always did, now that he knew what was on the table, he didn’t want to let it go.

Luke flopped into his recliner again.  Maybe he needed Chris.

XXXXXXXXXX


	10. We're Not Broken, Just Bent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Luke talk (again). Something new crosses Chris's mind about his and Luke's relationship. Luke and Rory argue. Chris gets a voicemail from Sherri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really wanted to drag ass, I swear. Still, thanks SO much to LSR's patient handling, I'm kinda proud of how it turned out. Hope everyone enjoys ^_^
> 
> And, as always, thank you so much to the folks who review and comment. It helps so much; it really does. This story is pretty much existing on those comments/reviews in addition to the fact that I really want to see this through. Thank you again, peeps! I hope you're enjoying reading as I am writing.

It was well past ten at night when Chris was roused from a restless dozing on his couch.  He shook his head quickly, trying to wake up, think, and clear the grogginess from his mind all at the same time.  He stumbled in the dark, his knee catching the side of an end table and his foot catching the jamb of an entryway.  He swore darkly and quickly flicked on the light before opening the door with bleary eyes as he wiped a little drool from the side of his mouth.

Chris blinked almost comically.  “Luke?  It’s…” He glanced down at his watch as a yawn crept out without his permission.  “Almost eleven at night; what are you—“

He was cut off as Luke shouldered past him quickly, shutting the door behind them before turning around in the dim living room.  “Do you want this?” he asked.

Chris stared at him, not quite sure if he was even fully awake yet or not.  “I’m sorry, what?”

One of Luke’s fists clenched in tension, the other still impeded by a cast (which, by Chris’s math, was due to come off next week).  His entire stance looked fraught with angry frustration, his lips drawn tightly together and his face bordering between irritated and neutral.

“You heard me.  Do you want this?” Luke repeated, and his voice wasn’t any better than his stature.  He sounded tired and stubborn, like he wanted to fight, but wasn’t sure what or who he was fighting against.  “Me?  Do you want _me_.”

Chris rubbed his hand over his eyes to clear the remaining sleep from them.  “I told you in the hospital that I wanted to see what it was about, didn’t I?  That I wanted to do this, that we _should_ do this?”

Luke’s fingers were still rhythmically clenching at his side, his gaze defiantly pointed at Chris’s feet instead of his face.  “What kind of fallout are we gonna get?”

“Since when you have been worried about what other people think?”

“Because I have to be this time,” Luke retorted sharply.  “Because this time, it’s not just about my life, my privacy, my issues.  This could permanently damage whatever you have with Rory and Lorelai.  It would hurt me to lose them, you know that.  But I know that it would kill you.”

Chris swallowed against the lump in his throat, the one that always had a way of making an appearance where Luke was concerned.  “She’s my daughter.  I’ve made my peace that I’ll be in and out of Lorelai’s life as she pleases, but Rory…” He wanted desperately to say that Rory would come around, that she would get over it in time, that she just wanted her mother to be happy, and maybe Luke giving her some kind of closure would be best, whether it was moving on with Chris or alone.  But all of the reasoning he could come up with, all of the justifications…none of them seemed to fit or even hold water.  Oh, naturally, he could say them, but everything about Luke’s face and nervous fidgeting kept him from doing so.  This wasn’t a business transaction or a dinner party—this was _Luke_.

“Well?” Luke prompted when the silence had gone on too long.

Chris sighed and ran an agitated hand through his hair.  “I don’t know if she’d ever forgive me.”  He placed his hands on his hips, finding Luke’s shoes just as interesting as Luke found his feet.  “Oh, of course Lorelai and Emily never would, but then, I don’t know that Emily’s ever forgiven me for not being the sort of strong-willed 16-year-old I apparently should have been against Lorelai’s ability to dig her heels in when she wanted something.  So, you know…Emily Gilmore’s forgiveness?  Not exactly the top of the list when it comes to things I thought I’d get.”

Luke looked up marginally, but only to Chris’s mid-section.  His eyes flicked anxiously.  “And Lorelai?”

Chris shrugged, fingers tightening over his own narrow hips as he took a cautious step in Luke’s direction.  The other man didn’t budge.  “She’s been pissed at me in the past.  True, I haven’t stolen her fiancé before, but let’s face it, Max wasn’t really my type.  If I had to guess, she might come around in time just because she thinks it’s so bizarre.  She wouldn’t be able to stay away, especially if it went down in flames.”

Luke snorted.  “I wouldn’t think her to be that mean-spirited.”

“Not mean-spirited so much as she would call it karma and watch it like it was _The Godfather, Part III_.”

“So you think you two would be okay then.”

Chris’s shoulders hitched again in thought.  “Maybe.”  He was within arm’s length now of Luke, who’s fist had finally stopped flexing anxiously.

Luke’s gaze finally met his, deathly serious and so full of uneasy depth that it made Chris’s own stomach tighten in response.  “But Rory?”

The excuses died in his throat again at the earnest stare.  Chris’s jaw worked silently for a moment before the words finally spilled out.  “She’d probably never forgive me, even if it did go belly-up.  I love her, she’s my daughter.  She loves me, I’m her father.  But while she’ll forgive her mother pretty much anything, she has her limits with me, and I’ve pushed them before.”

The fight seemed to bleed slowly out of Luke’s shoulders, and the rigidity melted away in resignation.

There was a long stretch of silence that only allowed the disquiet to build again, though this time it was different.  This time, it was as if Luke were straightening himself out, getting his thoughts and words together in his head.

“Emily came to talk to me,” Luke said quietly.

Chris let out a whoosh of sympathetic breath.  “ _Shit_ ,” he muttered, mostly to himself because he _knew_ what that probably meant.

To his utter surprise though, Luke half-sat, half-flopped on his couch, his cap landing somewhere behind it when the brim caught the back of it and slipped up.  “Yeah, you could say that, so long as you’re nowhere near her.  I almost dropped an f-bomb.”

Chris snorted weakly as he sat beside of Luke, facing inward as he had the last time Luke had been there, his knee slotted against Luke’s hip.  This time, he didn’t think much of the insinuation, because by all accounts, it seemed like Luke was going to call it off before it even started.

“Bet she loved that.  Language of the common man and all.”

Luke frowned, shooting him a confused, pensive stare.  “No…no, she pretty much hated it.”  He sighed, and went back to staring at the ceiling.  “She knows.”

Chris didn’t deny the uncomfortable knot in his chest that Emily had her fingers in this now too.  Lorelai and Rory were bad enough, but at the end of the day, they _had_ to know, and he had no regrets about that.  “Maybe she only _thinks_ she—“

Luke cut him off.  “Some friend of her has a kid who works at the hospital.  She saw us.”  He squeezed his eyes shut tightly.  “And it’s not just that.  I bet half the town knows by now, based on the way Babette and Miss Patty were skulking around the diner like a couple of damn vultures.”

Chris sighed and straightened his position until he was shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip with him again, his head lying on the back of the couch to also stare at the ceiling, because this was turning into a mess of disastrous proportions.  “So…”

“So.”

The silence lengthened out again, this time uncomfortably aware of itself while not giving a damn about the feelings of the two men in its company.

“I can’t let you lose Rory,” Luke said quietly, and his tone was nearly as undone as it had been when he had been angry and forceful.  “I can’t.  I know if I lost April…I think I’d fucking break, I really do.  She’s my kid, my little girl…well, not so little anymore, but she’s _mine_.”

Chris stared hard at the ceiling, remembering the ugly custody battle between he and Sherri, the ins and outs of first Lorelai’s access to Rory, and then Rory’s decisions herself whether to speak with him or not.  He had always toed the line a bit on all three fronts, but had never pushed any of them away permanently.  Rory would damn well likely shut him out for Lorelai’s benefit, and he couldn’t say he blamed her, not one bit.  His grandfather’s words rang throughout his head, unbidden, every summer until he stopped going (which, honestly, had been right about the time Rory had been conceived).

_“Remember, Christopher…we Haydens work for our livelihood.  It wasn’t inherited.  Anything worth having in this life is worth working for, especially if you want it badly enough.”_

Did he want to work for this?  Hell, so far, every step of the way had been like pulling teeth, whether it had been Luke’s or his own.  But Luke had an excellent point in that eventually, it would be like pulling Rory’s wisdom teeth without anesthetic.

“Still with me?” Luke asked, his eyes not moving from what must have been a very dull ceiling by this point.

Chris blinked, the gloomy thought process still droning on in his head.  “Just…” He rubbed a hand over his face.  “Just thinking about something my grandfather used to say.”

“Words of wisdom when deciding being straight wasn’t good enough and your ex-wife’s fiancé looks downright dapper?” Luke asked humorlessly.

“Probably something your old man said to you a time or two,” Chris countered.  “Just that if you want something badly enough, it probably won’t come easy.”

Luke did turn his head at that, only to find Chris staring back with a steady, hazel gaze.  “Yeah, he did say something along those lines.”

The quiet was back, but lacking some of the discomfort of the ones from earlier.  Chris decided Luke’s solid, blue eyes were infinitely nicer to look at than his gray ceiling.  Luke wasn’t exactly looking away either, though Chris had never thought his eyes were anything terribly interesting, not like Lorelai’s eyes, full of vibrancy and cheer, shifting from blue to violet like Elizabeth Taylor, and doing so just as often as the actress had changed husbands.

Chris raised his hand slowly, making his intent clear with slightly loosened fingers.  They came into contact with warm, stubbly skin.  It scraped along his callused fingers, catching the occasional tiny scar that had he had received from popping open computer casings.  Luke’s good hand came up to wrap around Chris’s wrist, a thumb far more toughened than his own catching on the slender bones beneath the skin.

“You’re really doing this,” Luke asked almost a bit numbly, as if he couldn’t believe that Chris was willing to risk it without further debate.

Chris shrugged.  “I’ve done stupider things in life than this that I wanted less.”

Luke looked slightly perturbed at that.  “Well, gee, I’m so special then.”

Chris’s eyes flickered in the dim lighting.  “Yeah, you asshole.  You are.”  He hitched up on the couch, leaned forward, and hesitantly fit his lips over Luke’s.  The fingers around his wrist tightened quickly enough that Chris pulled back, apologies ready on his lips, barely reading the intense stare that had come over Luke’s features before Luke tugged back on his wrist.

Chris landed his free hand on Luke’s shoulder to avoid toppling over completely as Luke kissed him again.  The stubble felt strange and rough in a way he wasn’t expecting to enjoy (but did) as his hand tightened over Luke’s shoulder, digging into the fabric of the army jacket he always wore.  Luke’s hand slipped around his neck, his casted one pressing solidly into the small of his back.  Chris grunted with the awkward angle, but only tightened his grip and slid a hand into the hair at the base of Luke’s head to find that the strands was as soft as they looked.

Luke gave an unexpected groan against his lips.  It reverberated over Chris’s mouth, sparking one from him before he could think to stop it.  Maybe he didn’t want to stop it.  All he knew was that he could feel the kiss from his lips all the way to his damn toes, pleasure sparking like napalm against his spine and neck where Luke touched him.

Chris was almost ready to break it off so he could breathe when a tongue flicked against his lower lip.  He gasped sharply, accomplishing the one task of acquiring oxygen, and also of pulling a needy sigh from the back of Luke’s throat as Chris resumed kissing him, trying to return the tongue favor more tentatively than he had with any other girl.  Luke didn’t seem to be having it, and his fingers dug hard into the small of his back where they poked out from the cast.  Chris tangled his fingers tighter into the hair at the base of Luke’s neck, skimming Luke’s lower lip one last time with his tongue, teeth biting too quickly and reaching for more as his thumb drifted over Luke’s neck, pushing away the collar of his shirt.

Luke broke away first, breathing hard and sitting in an uncomfortable way that Chris was all too familiar with, given he was in the same situation.

“So…there’s that,” Chris managed hoarsely, disentangling his fingers from Luke’s hair reluctantly.

“Yeah, that,” Luke replied, but his voice sounded off, as if he hadn’t quite come back yet.  He brushed another curious kiss against Chris’s lips, still seeming surprised that Chris kissed back.  “The beard’s weird.”

Chris laughed, falling back against the couch, his knees groaning in relief.  “I didn’t think I’d like the stubble.”

Luke shrugged in thought.  “I could get used to it,” he conceded, but he didn’t sound all together certain.  He shut his eyes again, exhaustion creeping back into his frame, both of the physical kind and the emotional.  “This is going to sound weird…”

Chris leaned slightly against him, pleasantly pleased when Luke didn’t shrug him off.  “Like anything with us hasn’t been?”

Luke sighed.  “It’s getting less weird, how’s that?”

“Well…possibly because you like it?” Chris offered up, and wished he could take it back, because Luke _had_ stiffened at that.  “Hey, if it’s any consolation, it’s not like I’m hating it either.  I told you, I wanted to do this,” he quickly tried to backtrack.

Luke waved him off though.  “I’ll work on it,” he said gruffly and sat up a little bit.  “I didn’t mean I was still against it, or weirded out _by_ it, just…” He coughed over his words a bit, as if he couldn’t quite get out what he wanted to say.  “God, I’m terrible at this.”

“No worse than me.”

“What I was going to ask, and it’s gonna be stupid no matter how I say it…can I stay the night?”

Chris raised an eyebrow.

Luke began to splutter almost immediately.  “Not like _that_ , Jesus Christ!  God, I meant sleep on your _couch_ ; I needed out of Star’s Hollow for the night, I wanted to see you, I didn’t expect Emily-goddamn-Gilmore to come knocking on my doorstep, I didn’t mean it like _that_ when I said “stay the night”, I meant—“ Luke stopped abruptly when he felt Chris shaking.

Chris struggled with his laughter as Luke’s eyes narrowed.

“Well, if you’re gonna be like _that_ ,” Luke muttered and stood to begin looking for his baseball hat.

“No, no, god, it was just…” Chris had to try and catch his breath after Luke’s manic, embarrassed spiel.  “You’re sort of…I don’t know…” He waved a hand in the air lamely.  “It was cute, that’s all.”

Luke popped up from behind the couch with a look of reluctance on his face.  “ _Cute_?  Really?  Is this already turning into April’s first boyfriend?”

Chris shrugged.  “So sue me if there’s not a manly way to say you did something endearing.  And yeah, you can stay the night, and no, you’re not taking the couch.  My maid will kill me.  She says people who sleep on couches make them bad couches.”

Luke raised an eyebrow as he finally swept his hat up, clutching it in his hand.  “How big’s your bed?”

Chris stood, flipping the hall light on to illuminate the way.  “Big enough,” he said with a smile.  “Come on.  I get needing to get away from Star’s Hollow.”

Luke ambled behind him almost reluctantly.  “I can still take the couch; I’ll be gone before your maid even gets here.  Diner, remember?”

“She’ll know.  Rosa always knows.”

And with that, Luke found himself donning a borrowed pair of sweatpants and tee-shirt to ward off the cold, and, while he still didn’t want to give rich people the time of day, he had to admit that Chris’s sheets were pretty soft.  He had just started to nod off when he noticed a flannel shirt draped over a chair in the room.

Luke was about to ask, but Chris was snoring quietly behind him and he decided to ask another day.  A small, (only a _little_ stupid) grin marred his face as he turned back toward Chris, because he was absolutely certain that the flannel draped over the chair was his.  He also decided to completely _not_ care when he turned again in sleep and ended up with Chris sprawled over him, chest-to-back.

Instead, he only slept deeper.

XXXXX

Chris wasn’t surprised to wake alone, if a little disappointed.  Then again, it was 7AM and the diner was probably in full swing for the Monday morning commuters.  He stretched in bed and smiled a bit goofily at the indent that Luke had left on the pillow next to his.  He wasn’t sure what their conversation last night had accomplished, but he only hoped it left Luke in more affable spirits to give this a shot.

He was a little stunned by how much he wished that were the case.  Something about this thing was more real to him than anything had ever been, even with the impending cloud of adulthood that Lorelai’s pregnancy had brought at the age of sixteen.  This was genuine in a different sense, a more tangible way that had less direness attached to it.  Desperation, sure, but Chris suspected that it was of a different sort.

He stopped making coffee on the spot when the thought crossed his mind.  He knew the mechanics of guys of course; he wasn’t completely unaware of the world.  He only slightly wondered if Luke did, and how that was making _him_ feel.

Chris stirred his coffee.  They would cross that bridge when they came to it.

That, naturally, brought back snips of the conversation from last night, and Chris wondered both absently and sadly if he was burning his bridge to Rory for the sake of something he wasn’t sure would last.

XXXXX

Luke wouldn’t say he was… _apprehensive_ , so to speak, though it definitely felt that way between the haze of sleepily kissing Chris good-bye and opening the diner.  An unsettled twist had definitely wrapped around his heart that didn’t give until, just as he thought might happen, Rory popped up in the diner between the breakfast and lunch rushes.

He really ought to see if he could get business up between those two times.

Luke poured her a cup of coffee to go in silence, ignoring her slightly stony stare.

“Take a walk with me?” she asked politely.  “I wanted to talk to you again, and I’m headed for New York tonight.”

Luke sighed heavily.  He should have expected that, but hadn’t.  He snagged his jacket off the coat rack, barked a few orders to Cesar and Lane, and followed Rory out of the diner like he was being led to his execution.

When they were far enough away from prying ears and eyes, Rory stopped and turned to face him, every inch of her screaming _Lorelai_.  “I wanted to talk to you about this thing with my dad.”

“I thought, as you said, it was none of your business, and I would prefer it to stay that way,” Luke pointed out.  “As I recall, it wasn’t your place to say anything.  Your dad has bad timing; I was coming over to tell your mom about it that night.”

“I don’t _care_ about any of that,” Rory replied emphatically, her arms crossed both in defense against the cold and as if she were protecting herself.  “You want to go screw around with my dad, go nuts.”

Luke groaned.

Rory flicked her gaze to the side in apology.  “Poor choice of words.”  She straightened up quickly though to continue.  “But if you’re going to do that, and I think you are since all I’ve heard all morning from everyone from Kirk and Lulu to Lane, Miss Patty, and Babette is how your truck’s been missing all night and you arrived this morning in the same clothes you were wearing last night—“

“Jeez, does this town ever _sleep_ —“

Rory held up a hand to silence him.  “Hey!  Interrupting Luke, I didn’t not set you up for that knock-knock joke.  I’m not finished.  I know Grandma came to see you, and I am sorry, but she’s doing the same thing I’m doing now.  We’re looking out for _Mom_.  You know, that woman you asked to marry you and then accused her of dumping what should, for all intents and purposes, be an issue between you and your ex, back into your lap for _you_ to deal with like you should have in the first place?”

Luke’s gaze sharpened, because yeah, for him?  That was still a sore spot.  “You know, I don’t have anything to hide from you of all people.  Yeah, I was at your dad’s last night.  And _on_ the subject of things that should be others’ issues in the first place, how about you explain how you’re going to freeze your dad out permanently if me and him decide to do this?”

Rory looked taken aback.  “He would deserve it for a while, don’t you think?  He swoops in when he _knows_ you guys are in trouble, but hey, twist ending this time, Perry Cox, he was after _you_ instead of Jordan.”

Luke grunted in frustration.  “He wasn’t _after_ anyone!  And _no father_ deserves to be shut out permanently.  You don’t think I’d do anything, have done everything, in my power to keep April in my life?  And then your mom and Anna turn it into a “me or her” situation like it’s the easiest thing in the world for me to choose between Lorelai and April?  Why don’t you ask your mom about _that_ argument, huh?”

Rory looked stubborn, the very picture of someone metaphorically digging their heels in.  “Mom would _never_ make you choose between her and April.  Her and _Anna_ , _maybe_ , but that—“ She stopped as the thought dawned on her.  “Doesn’t Anna get it though?  You guys are getting _married_ ; isn’t that bigger than whatever pissing contest she wants to have with Mom?”

“Rory, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” Luke said tiredly, because he was _seriously_ tired of rehashing this argument and trying to come at it from both sides of the story.  “Honestly, and I told them both this, that you know what?  If it were up to me?  April is eighteen years old and can damn well do whatever she pleases because if she gets kicked out over it, she’ll have a place to stay with me.  She’s my _daughter_.”

Rory tightened her crossed arms.  “I want you to stop hurting my mom,” she said bluntly, because she sensed the argument drifting away from her original point.  “It’s been hard enough between with Grandpa dying two years ago and all of this crap with April’s mom.”

Luke sighed.  “Rory, try to understand.  You’re making me feel like I have to choose between Anna and Lorelai, and I will _not_ do that because while your mom and dad have always been pretty good about co-parenting you, it has not always been that easy for Anna and me.  And just like I’m asking you to not ask me to choose, I’m asking you not to punish your dad for something that he wants.”

“It’s not just about his needs!” Rory snapped, arms dropping and fists clenching.  “Or even yours!”  She shook her head furiously before locking her stare again with Luke’s.  “Are you and mom going to make up?”

“I don’t _know_ , Rory.  Things have gotten so bad that I’m not sure I can see how we’d be able to fix it,” Luke said quietly.  “It’s pretty broken.”

Rory glared at him.  “Maybe it’s just bent.  But you won’t know if you don’t sit down and talk to her.”

“It’s not like she’s been asking to talk to me!  I tried calling, twice, and she never responded.”  He sighed, definitely done with all of it.  “Look, you want to play messenger?  You want to do this on behalf of your mother?  Then how about you go back and tell her the ball is in her damn court and I have yet to see her check the ball.”

Luke walked away, ignoring anything else that Rory might have said in favor of remembering the warmth at his back when had woken up that morning.  It was easier to sink into that feeling than the resigned defeat he was getting that maybe it was over before it had started, and it wasn’t him and Lorelai that were broken—it was him and Chris.

XXXXX

Chris automatically felt the negativity as he entered the diner around closing time.  It was thankfully empty, Luke having even sent the other servers and cooks home to close in solitude.  He rapped his knuckles on the countertop lightly since the door had jingled, but no one had appeared.

“Getting ready to close, grill is already down, so if you—“ Luke stopped as he exited the kitchen, some of the day melting from his face when he saw Chris.  “Strawberry-rhubarb pie and a coffee?”

Chris laughed, but the humor was missing owing to the fact he could see something was already weighing heavily on Luke’s shoulders.  “Irish coffee?” he offered.

Luke sighed.  “Not a good idea.  I’ve got deliveries in the morning, and it’s also a double whammy of the book club and some of the bingo ladies who come by for breakfast, brunch, and lunch.  Liz called earlier, saying something about her and TJ having not had a date night in a while, so I might be catching babysitting tomorrow night to boot.”

Chris had a feeling that wasn’t all of it, but he didn’t push any further, considering their tentative sort-of-truce at the moment.  Still, he couldn’t get the anxious feeling that Luke was…something akin to done, maybe closer to out all together so far as Chris was concerned.

Sighing, Chris rose from his seat, one hand jammed into his pocket and the other gripping the counter.  “So…I’ll see you then?” he asked.  While he hoped his tone had been casual, even he could hear the tension wrapped around his voice.

Luke stared resolutely at the stack of receipts he had been flipping through but now laid still.  “Yeah, maybe.”

Chris started to head for the door, but he paused as he clutched the handle.  Something was off, something was deeply wrong.  He wasn’t sure what had happened between that morning and now, but there was definitely something… _not right_ about Luke’s mood and the dismissive good bye.

Luke looked up stubbornly when Chris turned away from leaving.  “Look, I’m sorry I can’t offer you a ‘tonight do us part moment’, but it’s bad timing right now, and I don’t have time to deal with it.”

Chris sat down again, shrugging off his overcoat.  “What happened?”

Luke viciously flipped through his receipts again.  “Nothing,” he muttered through gritted teeth.  He steeled his frame with his good hand, using the mobility he did have of his casted hand to continue looking through the thin papers.  “I’m working so I can try and at least close up at a decent hour so I can get enough sleep so that when I open tomorrow, I don’t harass the bingo ladies too much about the fact they never order anything more than water.”

Chris tilted his head, scrutinizing the way Luke had all but shut down.  He sighed, snagging his coat again and standing.  “I guess you’ll tell me when you tell me.”

Luke shrugged.  “Yeah.”

Squeezing his eyes shut again the impending hurt of Luke’s dismissal, Chris quietly approached the section of counter Luke was busying himself at.  Hesitantly, Chris brushed his fingers over Luke’s.  Luke stopped moving, his near-manic receipt checking coming to a halt.

Chris weighed his words carefully as his hand settled over Luke’s.  “I don’t know what happened between you leaving this morning and now…but if you want to talk about it, you have my number.”

Luke remained solidly still, saying nothing in return and staring in resignation at Chris’s hand over his own.

“So, I’m just going to go,” Chris said quietly, and tightened his grip over Luke’s hand before heading for the door.  He wasn’t sure why he thought Luke would call him back, would maybe grab him by the wrist before leaving, would do or say _something_.

In the end, however, Luke didn’t.

Chris sat in his car, staring tiredly at the dash panel.  Something had happened; he just didn’t know _what_ , precisely.  He tightened his fists on the steering wheel, willing himself to _not_ go back in the diner and demand to know why Luke was suddenly pulling away all over again.  He started the car, still not driving away just yet, because part of him (the part that he was seriously starting to second-guess and call an idiot right now) wanted Luke to stop him was preventing him from going.

What Chris told himself was that he was just letting his car warm up.

The self-pitying monologue was interrupted again, however, by a sharp knock on his window.  Chris jumped at the noise, hand reaching for the mace he kept in his console out of habit as he rolled the window down.

However, it was Luke, shivering with either the cold, pent-up anger, frustration, or maybe a combination of all three.

Luke swallowed awkwardly.  “I _will_ call you.  Or text or something.  I don’t know what the kids are calling it these days.”

“Texting works, or calling, or Morse code, if you like,” Chris responded neutrally, but his fingers tightened over the steering wheel.

Luke looked side to side for a moment before dipping his head into the car and kissing Chris hard and quick, too fast to be enjoyable but just enough to dispel at least _some_ of the doubt Chris had lingering about the state of their relationship.  The intensity and sheer _want_ behind it had Chris’s voice locking tightly in his throat.

When Luke pulled back, they were both breathing hard, staring determinedly at anything but each other.  Luke’s hand still gripped the side of the car door tightly, his eyes casted downward while Chris struggled to find words with his fingers itching to touch.

“I _will_ call you,” Luke said darkly, his head shaking to the side as he rocked back to his feet.

Chris nodded tightly because he didn’t trust his voice.

Luke sighed—well, maybe it was more of a grunt than anything else, but Chris wasn’t sure.  “Chris…” he murmured.  “Just…”  He sighed irritably as if he could barely find words himself, and when he spoke again, the words were stilted.  “Rory and I talked today.  It wasn’t pretty.”

Chris was finally able to look at him.  “And?”

Luke snorted, his head turning again as he looked slightly manic and desperate.  “I think if I was going to get Gilmore’d, as you put it, I’d rather it have been Emily.”

Chris nodded and, though he was still unsure of his voice, he replied, “Yeah.  Rory packs her own special kind of punch.”  He finally loosened his hands on the steering wheel, mostly because his knuckles had gone white.

Luke straightened a bit.  “So…I’ll call you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Chris responded, though he wasn’t sure he believed Luke.  “Call me.  Or I’ll call you.  We’ll see what happens.”  He swallowed thickly.

Luke backed away from the car.  “So…see you later.”  He trudged off, as if he wanted to actually do the opposite.

Chris blew out a sigh, not realizing he’d been holding his breath until Luke had gone.  Rory had definitely gotten to him, and yet, Chris wasn’t surprised.

After all, Chris knew Rory’s world, the one that loaded words like a gun, and Emily had certainly taught her well.  He leaned his head against the headrest of his seat, trying to forget the intensity of Luke’s last kiss, the strong bulk of him lingering outside of his car, the way Chris could still smell him—stale food, cold air, and the underlying scent of deodorant or shampoo; he wasn’t sure.

Chris put the car in drive, and promised himself that no matter what happened at this point, he would be there for Luke in any way he could, damn what anyone else thought or deducted from there.

When Chris got home, the apartment was clean like normal since Rosa had definitely been there, as was evidenced by the plate of food in the fridge with instructions in Spanish on how to reheat it properly.  He smiled at it, and threw the plate in the microwave as he went back into the living room to check his messages.

The microwave went off just as Sherri finished telling him over a message that Gigi would be staying with him for the weekend, but owing to a three-day break so the teachers could conduct parent-teacher conferences, Gigi would be arriving Wednesday morning at 7AM and staying with him for the duration.  She had also mentioned that Gigi was missing her father and looking forward to the break.

Chris sighed, his appetite disappearing even as the microwave beeped again to remind him it was done.  More than likely, Gigi might want to see her half-sister while she was back state-side, which meant calling Rory, who had just started a new assignment that was local for once and allowed her a bit more freedom than her last one.

With yet another expulsion of breath, Chris picked up the phone resolutely so he could call Sherri for more details.  He wasn’t looking forward to calling Rory, given what he did know about his daughter confronting Luke, but he also knew it would be better to warn her of a possible visit than to simply try and spring it on her.

The only thing that really got him through it all was the text he had received from Luke.

_I WILL call you.  Don’t worry._

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, folks!


	11. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris gets Gigi from the airport. April shows up to Luke’s. Chris and Gigi go to Star’s Hollow to meet Rory. Gigi and Chris talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot of slash in this chapter, if any. I apologize; this chapter is more story development than romance. Really wouldn’t blame a reader for skipping it, but this chapter (and the next) are like life—it happens whether you like it or not.
> 
> See end of chapter for Revival notes.

Chris tapped his foot nervously as he waited at baggage claim at the airport.  He knew logically Gigi had only been gone for close to three months now, but he had some weird notion she would look more grown up, that he would have missed something in his twelve-year-old daughter’s life.  He felt stupidly nervous, like maybe Gigi thought Europe was fascinating and wonderful (despite having been pretty much every summer since the custody suit had been nailed out), and that America and Chris would both be lame.

All of this swirled in his head and promptly faded away when Gigi locked gazes with him and sent him an ear-splitting smile (and teeth full of new braces) as she made a beeline for him and threw her arms around him.

“I missed you, Dad!” she squealed with excitement.  “I have _so_ much to tell you!  I _love_ my school, and I have a new best friend since _someone_ over the pond couldn’t keep up with being pen-pals—not _you_ of course, but my friend, Sofia, from that one school you called snotty.  So anyway, my new friend, she’s from Bristol, her name is Emma and she’s so mature and sophisticated!  And this other girl, Emilia—she’s from Germany, I think Dusseldorf—she’s helping me in math.  We live in the same dorm, so we get to hang out practically all the time, isn’t that great?“  She continued on about the new friends and her school, rocking eagerly on her heels as she flipped through photos on her cell phone and waited for her baggage, clearly pleased how Chris listened with his full attention.

Chris laughed and hugged her tightly, eyes misting unexpectedly that Gigi still thought he was cool (well, as cool as any twelve-year-old thought her father was).  He put her down as they looked for her bag, Gigi chattering all the way about another girl named Charlotte, and the fact they had both joined writing club because really, while Gigi _totally_ respected her half-sister’s journalistic ambition, Gigi liked fairy tales better, and newspapers didn’t _print those_ , now did they?

Chris let her talk until the jet lag seemed to catch up with her and she slowly quieted down as they approached the apartment.  “Now, Geege, it’s only 5:30PM, and if you go to sleep now, you’ll be awake at three in the morning.”

Gigi started to reply and yawned instead.  “Well…can I have an espresso then?”

Chris raised an eyebrow.  “Are they letting you have espresso at that school of yours?”

“Well…no.  But Lottie drinks it, and she seems fine!”

“No coffee until you’re at least sixteen.  It stunts your growth.”

Gigi pouted.  “ _Rory_ ’s tall.”  She seemed to perk up a little bit.  “Hey, are we going to see Rory?  I want to show her my French paper.  She said she was really good at French when she attended Chilton, and I want her to help me with the grammar I got marked off for.  Madame Blanchard said if I corrected it 100%, she would give me a few more points.”

Chris tightened his fingers on the wheel.  “Yeah, I set up a visit on Saturday.  You know she’s usually busy Friday nights with her grandmother.”

Gigi bounced in the seat.  “Awesome!  I haven’t seen her since Christmas.  So how have you been, Dad?  Any new _ladies_?” she asked cheekily.

“You really want to hear about my romantic life?” Chris asked, his eyebrow going up again.  “The last time I mentioned someone new, you said, quote, “gag me with a spoon”.”

Gigi rolled her eyes.  “Because you started saying how she kissed like a fish; what did you expect?  I was just seeing if you were seeing anyone new.  I know I’m not here right now, so you’ve got more free time and stuff.”

Chris weighed heavily on whether he should mention Luke in _any_ capacity, and decided to play it safe.  “There could be a somebody.  It’s complicated though.”

Gigi looked sly.  “You told Mom yet?  Or Rory?  Or Lore?”

“Nope, you’re the first to know,” Chris said as if imparting a special secret.

“Well…but you said it’s complicated.  Everything okay?  Is she married or something?  Did you meet her at one of those things Grandma always makes you go to?  How _is_ Grandma anyway; you mentioned she hadn’t been feeling so good lately.”

“So _well_ , for one,” Chris corrected.  “And so many questions!  I thought you were tired.”  He decided not to correct Gigi’s pronoun-usage.

She rolled her eyes.  “ _You’re_ the one who’s being _so_ chatty about it,” she pointed out emphatically.  “So…”complicated”, huh?  Lottie says that’s just another way for adults to say “none of your business”.”

“Geege, it’s not that I’m saying it’s none of your business.  I’m saying it’s a delicate situation and I don’t know if it’s even going anywhere.”  He parked the car and turned to her, tapping her affectionately on the nose.  “And since when are you so interested in my personal life?”

Gigi shrugged.  “Lottie’s cool, and when I’m not studying with Emilia, Emma keeps me busy…but you’re my dad.  It’s like…my _job_ to make sure you’re keeping happy and busy.  Besides, Mom asked me to look after you.”

Chris chuckled weakly as he unbuttoned his seatbelt and began unloading the two bags Gigi had.  “That’s very sweet of you both, but I’m doing fine.  I’m staying busy too, you know.”

With another roll of her eyes, Gigi snagged her carry-on and haughtily threw it over her shoulder.  “Yeah, listening to The Offspring while doing the programming thing.  Or did you mix it up and throw in the Smashing Pumpkins this time?  Or is it still your Flogging Molly phase?”

“That mouth of yours, I swear,” Chris muttered as he used his hip to shut the door, even though he had to admit, he was pretty damn proud of the music references.  “Okay, fine.  Want something juicy to go back to your mom with?  I wrecked my bike.”

“The Harley or the Ducati?”

Chris would remember that moment as being one of the proudest he’d ever had with his daughter so far.

XXXXX

Luke, as a rule, hated lawyers and legal documents and pretty much anything that was designed to make the common man feel inferior.  In this case, however, he had to draw a line in the proverbial sand when it came down to the fact that Taylor somehow thought Luke should be responsible for sharing supplies between the soda shoppe and the diner, and that Taylor was entitled to free advertising within the diner (including but not limited to Taylor sending in a shoppe employee with samples priced “ _very_ reasonably” at fifty cents) despite the clearly visible window between the two businesses.

And that wasn’t even the half of it.

So Luke had carved out some time in his day.  He had expected it to be an hour, maybe two hours _tops_ , spent at the lawyer’s office (with a quick ten-second thank-god moment that Nicole was no longer handling any of Taylor’s affairs).  It had slowly dragged into damn near four and a half hours as Taylor filibustered his way through their lease like he was the fucking lovechild of Nixon and Trump.

Luke sighed as he pulled back up to the diner, exhaustion of the mental kind weighing hard as he threw the truck into neutral and pulled the emergency brake.  As if the meeting weren’t enough, he had been forced to call his doctor (god forbid something in his life come up to impede his doctor’s office’s innate ability to start every appointment an hour after it was scheduled) to see if he could still get the cast removed.

Though it had added another two hours to his time away from work (the two hours that he had thought the lawyer’s would take), he had still gone because he was damn tired of not having the full mobility of his hand.  The two pieces of casting sat in a non-descript, white plastic bag, and he debated whether he was going to keep it or not.

He smiled a little at his right hand (though it looked a bit weak and smelled a lot funny), thinking he might just keep the palm part where Chris had signed it first.

Luke was pulled from his thoughts (and would later call a stupid reverie) by Lane pounding on his window.  He rolled it down quickly, his irritation at the day returning rapidly as he shot her an impatient glare.  “What, Lane?  I just pulled up, and I’m sorry it was taking me just a second to put the truck in a position where it _wouldn’t_ go rolling down the hill, but I thought I would make sure I wasn’t doing property damage before—“

His rant promptly stopped when Lane rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation before shoving someone in front of her.

Luke’s mouth dried up immediately.  “What…what are you doing here?”

April’s eyes, magnified by her glasses, were luminous but happy.  “You remember you said I could stay with you until I started college?”

Luke nodded stupidly.  “Well, yeah, the offer still stands.  What happened?”

April’s right shoulder slouched down slightly in Lane’s direction.  “Maybe you should apologize to Lane, who already agreed to my proposition of being her live-in nanny that also pays rent if it I can’t stay with you.”  She held up a trembling hand even she obviously wanted it to be firm.  “Not that I didn’t think you’d say I _couldn’t_ ; it was just a contingency plan.”

Lane smirked as she crossed her arms in defense against the cold.  “Yeah, Luke, maybe you _should_ say sorry.  It’s a great offer she gave me.”

Rolling his eyes, Luke looked pointedly at the diner.  “I apologize, Lane.  Maybe keep the place going for a few more?”

It was a good-natured gesture when Lane uncrossed her arms and smiled.  “Take your time.”  She ambled quickly back to the diner, shooting them both a warm smile before disappearing behind into the restaurant.

Luke sighed as he got out of the truck, but smiled fondly at his daughter.  “Of course you can stay with me if you want.”  He hugged her loosely, aware of her shyness of overly-touchy gestures.  As such, he was caught off-guard when April wrapped her arms around him tighter than he could recall within the last few years.  He tentatively wrapped his hand around the back of her head in concern.  “Hey…hey, hey, everything okay?”

April nodded against his chest, but he didn’t buy it.  She was taller now, usually standing to just below his nose.  Now, however, she was curled into his chest, her head buried into his shoulder and her fingers shaking a little against his back where they dug into his jacket.

“I’m sorry I showed up so unexpectedly,” she rushed out in a voice muffled by his shirt.  “Things just…they got so bad, _so_ fast, and—“ She broke off with a choked sound that was a mixture of a sob and a cough.

“April, hey,” Luke said more confidently than he felt, “Hey, it’s okay.  You’ve got a place to stay, whether it’s with me or Lane.  You want to stay with Lane, you stay with Lane and Zach.  You want to stay with me, that’s cool too.”

April looked up at him with wide brown eyes as her shoulders relaxed visibly.  “So…you don’t mind that I’m just… _here_?”

Luke smiled at her, settling his hands on his shoulders caringly.  “I never mind that you’re here.”  He hugged her again with one arm, still so aware of her aversion to public displays of affection.  “ _Ever_ , okay?”

April trembled again, but seemed to steady herself quickly.  “Thanks, Dad.”  She ducked her head almost shyly for a moment before looking up.  “I got into MIT.”

Luke briefly blanked, trying to pull up which universities he had helped out on application fees.  “I…didn’t help you with that one.”

April rolled her eyes indulgingly.  “Massachusetts Institute of Technology.  Kinda hard to get into.  I got in.”

“But Massachusetts?  I thought you had your heart set on Cal-Tech.”

“But Boston’s not that far from here,” April said emphatically.  “And their science programs are amazing, regardless of which branch of science you want to study.  I got _in_ , Dad!”

While Luke didn’t understand fully why she was so excited, he did appreciate her eagerness.  “I’m glad too, April.”  He turned her towards the diner.  “So, staying with me?”

She was silent until they were alone in the upstairs of the diner and had checked twice to make sure they were alone.  “While I’m sure babysitting twins would prep me for life better than college, I have _no_ desire to actually prove that through.”  She sat at the kitchen table, her hands folding over each other rhythmically in a nervous fashion before making eye-contact with Luke again.  “Besides, I have a place to stay.”

Luke smiled back.  “Yeah, you do.”  He fell into the other chair easily, even as the urge to call Chris sprung from nowhere so he could tell him the good news, and clasped his hands over the table.  “So…you hungry?”

April nodded quickly.  “God, I could _so_ go for one of your burgers.”

Luke grinned at her.  “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

April smiled, though it still seemed a bit fragile.  “And then we’ll talk.”

He nodded from the door, wondering what could have possibly driven such a deep wedge between April and Anna.  As far as he knew, Anna wanted April to stay on the east coast, and MIT would be a perfect choice for her.  Well, he was basing his opinion of the college on April’s excitement about her admission, but hey, if it was good enough for her, then it was good enough for him.

Still, as he covered the burgers with cheese and then a sauce pan to keep the moisture in, it niggled at him.  He knew things were getting bad between April and Anna, but he had thought it was mostly wedding-related.  Anna had, by and large, always supported April in any of her endeavors, save the fact that Anna seemed to privately think April sometimes sank far too much into her studies.

Having been broken in by Rory, Luke wasn’t so sure he agreed.  He removed the cover from the burgers and began assembling two to-go boxes to tote back upstairs.

Whatever had happened, it must have been serious.  He closed the boxes and reluctantly pulled out his cell phone with a grimace.  No matter what had gone down or happened, he still owed it to Anna as a parent to let her know April was safe and with him (and also because it wasn’t like April hadn’t taken off before without telling her mother, no matter how many years had passed).

“Hello?” Anna’s voice tittered over the phone, sounding faintly stressed but not panicked.

“Hey, Anna.  It’s Luke.”  There was a bit of silence that indicated she had acknowledged the words, but didn’t have anything to say.  He sighed awkwardly.  “Okay, so, I don’t know what, exactly, happened between you two, but I just wanted to let you know April’s safe and sound; I’ve got her upstairs.”

Anna sighed quietly in response, saying nothing for a moment.  “Oh, I know she’s with you.  She left a nice little note and everything.  Even packed up her room and arranged to have what she would need for college sent to her when the time comes.  We’ve taught her well, though she probably got it from your fiancée for all I know.”

The bitterness in her voice surprised him.  “Anna, what happened?  I don’t want to go into this blind.”

She scoffed lightly over the phone.  “My daughter—“

“ _Our_ daughter,” Luke interrupted emphatically, because seriously, he was exhausted of Anna’s tack of calling April _hers_ , not _theirs_.

“ _April_ has decided that since she is 18, of sound mind and capable of making full-blown adult decisions without my input or approval.  No, she doesn’t want to hear or listen to any advice I could _possibly_ give her, let alone what an awful idea it is to choose your school on a _whim_.  Of _course_ , she’s simply going to shack up with the father that turned her life completely upside down at the age of thirteen.”

“Anna, that’s not fair.  You didn’t want me to know, you gave her three choices knowing damn well who it probably was.  She wanted to know, now she does.”  He settled his hand on his hip stubbornly, because he was not going to let her drag this shit up again.  Besides, it wasn’t even _remotely_ what he had asked.  “So I’m guessing you’re not agreeing with our daughter’s life choices right now.”

“She says she’s an adult, Luke.  Apparently, I have no more advice or parenting to give her, and my opinion is superfluous as she is old enough to do whatever she wants.  So this is me, letting her do whatever she wants.  She’s made her choices.”

“Anna, that can’t be all of it.”  Luke shuffled where he stood.  “You’ve always supported her decisions, even after you moved back from New Mexico.”

“Fine, you talk to her about why she felt the need to get away from me so much.  It _surely_ couldn’t have had anything to do with you helping her put in applications to colleges I felt were too long-distance after we moved back to Woodbury.  What if she needed something that deprived her of that focus?  You’ve _seen_ her unable to concentrate because she had the wrong _pen_. If she chose Cal-Tech or University of Alaska, it’s not exactly a skip across the lake if she forgot something imperative.”  Anna’s voice started to crack in anger and frustration.  “And we both know it couldn’t have been the way you were _so_ adamant that she can do what she likes as an adult and if I kick her out, then _I’m_ the bad person and she can stay with _you_.  Don’t believe for a _second_ that I don’t know how a naïve 18-year-old girl wouldn’t find the idea of rebelliously leaving her horrible mother to go live with the father that offers her freedoms that I, apparently, won’t allow her.”

“Anna, it’s not _like_ that; I was letting her—“

“No, Luke.  After all these years, you’re still assuming you can decide certain things.  Well, you clearly decided to keep yourself in April’s life, and you won that, although we won’t mention that it was mostly on Lorelai’s reference letter that put you in a position to get it.  But you _don’t_ get to decide how _I_ feel about April running off to her father because she feels like I’m not giving her enough choices with her life.  Good-bye, Luke.”

The phone went dead.

Luke sighed, slipping the phone back into his shirt pocket and grabbing the to-go boxes.  By now, the burgers were still warm enough to be good, but cool enough to dig into without caution.  He exited the kitchen, only to find April sitting at the bar counter.

“You didn’t _have_ to call her, you know,” April said haughtily as she adjusted her glasses.  “I left her with all the information she needed, and she knows I’m smart enough to be safe and get here in one piece.”

Luke put the to-go boxes on the counter before rounding the side of it, settling his hand on her shoulder.  “She still would have wanted to know that you were safe and got here okay.  She’s still your mother, no matter what’s really happened between you two.”

April stared stubbornly at the counter.  “I don’t want to talk about what happened.  I just…I don’t want her in my life right now.”

Luke settled onto the bar stool.  “How about we go upstairs, get some food in you, and, _if_ you’re up to it, you can tell me what really went down, okay?”

April gave a non-committal shrug.  “Maybe.”

“Come on, April.  You know I’m trying.”

She picked at the counter absently.  “Well…” She grabbed the boxes and stood to head for the stairs.  “It started when I joined Science Olympiad sophomore year.”

Luke internally breathed relief and ambled after April up the stairs.

XXXXX

Chris drank his coffee, barely tasting it as Gigi watched “Wizards of Waverly Place” on the TV.  Gigi had slept like a log once he finally let her, hoping the jet lag wouldn’t be too hard on her between a visit with him and then going back to school.

Gigi had gotten up at 5AM, though she had insisted it was the time she normally got up anyway.  He privately thought she was trying to convince both himself and her that jet lag simply wouldn’t apply to her.

“So, we’re going to Stars Hollow today,” Chris said absently as he sat on the couch with his second cup of coffee, and Gigi paused the program on the TiVO.  “Rory’s visiting Lorelai this weekend, but she’s still working too.  She’s doing some piece on crime rates in small towns versus big towns and then contrasting the police force and the population’s mentality toward each other.”

“Sounds juicy,” Gigi advised archly as she got up from the floor and sat beside him.  “So I get to see Lore too?”

Chris shrugged.  “I’m not sure, Geege.  She might be busy with the inn.”

Gigi’s face screwed up in consideration and calculation almost immediately, and it was a near-copy of the look Rory got when she was onto something and _knew_ it.  “Did something happen between you two?”

“Come on.  We have our ups and downs.”

“Uh _huh_ ,” Gigi responded primly enough that he could tell she thought something else.  “So you’re just on a down right now.”

“Hey, if we’re gonna make this appointment with Rory, we’ll have to leave soon.  Did you eat anything for breakfast?”

Gigi looked at him, her young face concerned and inquisitive.  “Dad, _you_ come on.  Be real.  What’s going on?  You tell me there might be a _somebody_ , but then you say it’s complicated, and now you’re skirting around whether I get to see Lore or not.”

“Gigi, I don’t really know what’s going on right now.  And I want you to be focused on school and making friends and enjoying your life.  Don’t worry.  _If_ anything comes of it, you’ll be one of the first to know.”

Gigi huffed and gave him a bit of the cold shoulder after that, clearly upset that her father wouldn’t confide in her.  She knew deep down that he was probably right, but he expected her to tell _him_ everything; it should be offered in return.  Naturally, she didn’t stop to think that maybe it was because she had _always_ told her father everything, but still.  She had every right to be a little put out.

Chris sighed as he Gigi threw her backpack in the car and snappily did up her seatbelt.  It was a damn close imitation of Sherry’s quick, irritated movements even when she insisted she was fine.

However, she was also wearing her pouty face that he’d managed to conquer when she was two.  Somehow, the sullen hurt on her face was getting to him a bit more this time than usual.  He sighed again as he started the car.

Just because she was older now didn’t mean she understood why “none of your business yet” was an appropriate response between father and daughter, and so, just as he’d had to learn to say no the first time, he stuck to his guns.

XXXXX

Chris parked the car at Lorelai’s house, frowning when he saw no cars there at all—no jeep, no Prius, no old Chevy truck.  He pulled out his phone, texting Rory quickly.

_Where are you?  We’re at your house where you asked us to meet._

Gigi was doodling with something or another on her own phone, so he kept his attention to the screen of his.  Finally, it vibrated briefly and he quickly opened the message.

_Finishing up an interview that ran over.  I’m at the diner.  You can either meet me in town, here, or wait until I get back.  It’s probably going to be a few though._

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, and wondered briefly if Rory was doing it on purpose.  He knew she had a diabolical streak in her, courtesy of mostly Lorelai.  Hell, Chris remembered some time or another when Lorelai was being forced through cotillion classes and had managed to lace all of the cucumber sandwiches with hot sauce and mustard and _still_ found time to lay the blame on the girl who kept sniggering about how certain families shouldn’t be allowed to participate in such traditions, lest they make it a mockery.

Though Chris had always privately wondered how Siobhan Houlihan managed to hide the history behind her own last name (or if the girl had ever bothered to look into it), let alone mock the Gilmores when the Houlihans had been in America not nearly as long.

Rory was always a little more subtle though—if she wanted revenge or discomfort, she had enough Emily in her to do something aggressive, but more than enough of Richard to do it in a passive manner.  So he wasn’t entirely sure he would put it past her to force him to bring Gigi to the diner.  While Gigi wasn’t necessarily showing Rory-levels of intelligence yet, she was still shrewd and becoming an excellent judge of character for a girl her age.

Yeah, Gigi would catch on almost immediately.

Chris turned the car off.  “Well, Geege, her appointment is running over.  We can either sit here, or we can walk around town, maybe get something to eat?”

And, because Chris was convinced that the world hated him, Gigi finally looked up from her phone with a hint of excitement.

“Burgers at Luke’s?”  She frowned when Chris winced.  “Oh, come on, Dad…I haven’t had them since I was _ten_ when we came to that thing at the inn!  I remember, because Mom flew in the next day to have dinner with us too, and insisted on anywhere but that greasy spoon Luke called a diner.”

“Sounds a little heavy for late breakfast/early lunch.  Maybe some tea at Weston’s?  You liked their cake.”

“I don’t really remember Weston’s.  And we both know better from Lore than to eat at that one place.”

“Or we could just scrap this and let your mom look at your essay.  Her French is pretty fluent too, you know.”

Gigi immediately looked upset and reluctant.  “No!  I wanted to see my sister while I’m here!  Besides, Mom’s French is ruined with all the slang and stuff; she uses way too many…like…I don’t know!  It’s stuff we say here but makes _no_ sense in French, and then she’ll say a French thing in English, and it’s _just_ as weird.  Besides, you _promised_.”

Chris tried for a reasonable look on his face, but knew he was failing miserably by the way Gigi looked ready to cry.  “I didn’t _promise_ ; that’s not fair.  I said I set something up.  If she’s busy or has to miss it, then I’m sure she’s sorry.  She did say we could wait here until she’s finished with her interview.”

“But I’m hungry too!  Why can’t we just walk around town and find something until Rory’s ready?  Ooh!  Or we could go to Lorelai’s inn!  They serve food there.”

Chris seriously wanted to punch the universe in the face, because he wasn’t sure which he would prefer—a distantly cool demeanor from Rory in Luke’s diner or an even icier attitude from Lorelai at the inn (not to mention surprising her too, which he’d come to realize as a Very Bad Thing, caps necessary).

Gigi flopped dramatically back into her seat, though the hurt on her face was terribly real, as was the slight dampness behind her eyes.  “Fine, whatever.  I don’t know why you guys are fighting.  You know what?  I don’t even _care_ ; can’t be that bad if you won’t even tell _me_.”  She turned her upset face to the window.  “Whatever, dad.  You want to see if you can go ahead and ship me back so the real fun can happen?”

And _fuck_ , Lorelai had never said anything about teenagers getting _this_ mean.  “Fine, we’ll go to Luke’s.  We can meet Rory there, you guys can have lunch.  If she doesn’t want to talk to me though, you have to promise not to pry.  If she’s unhappy with me there, I’ll leave you guys to it, and you can just call me when you’re ready to be picked up.  Deal?”

The unhappiness didn’t quite leave Gigi’s face.  “You _promise_?”

Chris sighed and touched her shoulder affectionately.  “I promise, Gigi.  I’ll text Rory about it, let Lorelai know that I’m leaving my car here, and we can walk over there.”

Gigi hesitantly unbuckled her seatbelt.  “Will you tell me what’s going on at least?”

“That really is between Lorelai and me, okay?  She wouldn’t like it if I was talking about her behind her back.  Remember how much you hated it when you found out Stephanie was doing that?”

“Jeez, dad, I’m not seven anymore.  I understand gossiping.”  She sighed and finally opened her door, snatching her backpack from the rear seat.  “But okay.  I won’t make you tell me now.”  She met him on the other side of the car, looking fierce and determined.  “But I’m telling Mom, and _she’ll_ get it out of you, and _then_ Mom will tell me what’s going on,” she said confidently.

Chris looked at her sternly.  “You can tell your mother whatever you like, but I doubt she’ll care enough about my personal life to involve herself that much, and I think you know that.”

Gigi crossed her arms stubbornly.  “I guess we’ll see.”

Chris checked his phone as Rory texted back.  It was short and, he thought, just shy of terse.  All it read was “fine”, and something about them having to wait until she was done so she could finish.  Well, of _course_ they’d wait; what did she think?  They would just crash her interview and throw a kegger right there?

“Alright, she says it’s okay.  You hungry?”

“Now that I know we’re eating burgers, _definitely_.”  She skipped a bit ahead of him, following the well-beaten path from the house to town.

Chris knew he wanted to clear the air on something else though, because he couldn’t bear the thought of Gigi going back to Europe hurt.  “Hey, Gigi.  Hold up a minute.”

She turned with a small smile on her face.  “Yeah, Dad?”

“I’m sorry I can’t tell you yet about the new person, okay?  But I promise,” he kneeled down to her, tapping her sweetly on the nose—he had done it at least once a week since she was born—“As soon as I know more, or we think it’s getting serious, you really will be the first to know.”

Gigi looked at him slightly suspiciously.  “Really?  Even before Mom?  And Lore?  And Grandma?”

“I promise.”  He hugged her tightly and was surprised when she tentatively whispered something in his ear, and then pulled away, a slightly worried look marring her face.  He looked her in the eyes and with no hesitation, he nodded again.  “Even before Rory, little miss.”

Gigi nodded, but she looked unsure.  “I’m sorry…that wasn’t very nice, was it?”

Chris shrugged.  “It wasn’t,” he agreed.  “But I understand.”  He held out his hand.  “Too old to hold hands with your dad?”

“Not yet,” Gigi retorted with a roll of her eyes as she slipped her hand into his.  “But only until we start seeing people.”

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revival Notes: This story is still going to happen, regardless of the revival. I have…thoughts on it. Quite a bit, seeing as I’m a Chris fan (don’t shoot me).
> 
> If you want to see my thoughts on it, I’m currently looking for a blog site (or whatever the young’uns are calling it these days), so if any of my current readers have a suggestion, feel free to tell me in reviews/comments.
> 
> That being said, this story will continue. It takes place BEFORE the revival, so I feel it’s kinda fair game. So far as I can tell, fans are pretty divided on how they feel about it, so I’m taking my chances on continuing this particular story since it’s set between the series end and the revival.
> 
> Also, and no one’s gonna believe me on this…believe it or not, but this chapter was written about a week—give or take a couple of days—before the revival premiered. When I saw that April was graduating MIT soon, I cried and high-fived LSR because HOLY SHIT, I sent April to MIT without knowing that’s what Amy Sherman-Palladino did. Never predicted that, ever, because April, to me, was always more of a student of the biological sciences than mechanical, more chemistry than physics, and MIT tends to turn out the best of the best when it comes to mechanical/physics.
> 
> TL;DR: Anyone know some good blog sites? And how do the readers feel about this story also including a sub-pairing of Paris/Rory? ‘Cause I’ve always secretly shipped that (even more so now). Thoughts please!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks again to all of the readers, commenters, reviewers, all of you. I appreciate any and all feedback, even you just tap the “kudos” button or something. I appreciate all of it; thank you so much!
> 
> Sorry for the long, rambling author’s notes XD


	12. I Don't Understand Where All This Is Coming From

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Gigi run into April on the street (no, really, they run into each other). Gigi and April chat while Luke and Chris do the same. Rory reviews Gigi's French essay (among other things). Chris tries to be friendly with April, but ends up realizing something else all together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord, I'm sorry for how long it took to get this chapter out. I'm not going to lie, folks...I was NOT happy with this chapter at all. There was a lot of tweaking, a lot of editing, a lot of revision...hell, at one point, I even considered scrapping what I had written all together.
> 
> At the end of the day, I reached out to an old friend of mine, and she reminded me that sometimes, during slow-burn fics, you're going to have a chapter you don't particularly like or seems irrelevant, but builds important things between the lines, and, seeing as she's one of the most amazing writers I know, I took her advice and stuck to my guns for this chapter.
> 
> That being said...yeah, it's kind of filler, but important things still happen. I'm in unknown territory here so far as the slow-burn thing goes. I normally tend to write things that happen both passionately and violently, like a bomb. This is more like a bonfire I'm struggling to get lit XD
> 
> Anyway, I'm babbling a bit. I'm sorry for how long all of this took! I haven't forgotten about this story; it's been one of the main projects in my head. I go to work and come home thinking about this fic most of the time, no lie.
> 
> So, I hope you're enjoying!
> 
> TL;DR: Sorry for the long time between updates, I hope you like!

Gigi chatted excitedly about the stores that were still in Star’s Hollow, commenting on how little had really changed since she had last been.  Al’s Pancake world was still there (and how was _that_ possible; that was the place Lore had both warned and raved about), Gypsy’s place was still thriving (and wasn’t he due for an oil change?), and Doose’s market was still overcharging for “exotic” fruit (and Gigi scoffed about how durian and starfruit were readily available in her boarding school in _France_ , how was it exotic in _Connecticut_?).

Chris tried unsuccessfully to quell the nerves that threatened to turn his stomach inside out as Gigi steered them inexorably towards Luke’s.  He didn’t want to go in, not because he didn’t want to see Rory or Luke, but because Gigi really was developing some truly intense people-reading skills, and he didn’t want to hear about it from Sherri.

He was given a reprieve when Gigi bumped hard into another girl on the street, both of them falling to the ground roughly.

“ _Oh my god_ , that’s _some_ blood!” the other girl exclaimed as her wild dark hair blew in the wind.  She had warm brown eyes that were magnified by skewed glasses.  “I have a first-aid kit though!”

Chris was kneeled by Gigi in an instant, eyeing the girl who had run into her.  “That’s okay; I’ll take care of it.”

The other girl crouched beside of him unabashedly, brandishing a white box full of medical supplies.  “I was just going to make sure the scrape was treated.  Little scrapes like these can introduce infections that can last for a lifetime.”

Gigi huffed a bit, seeming a bit uncomfortable by the sudden attention.  “It’s not the first time I’ve scraped my knee.”  She stood up between Chris and the unknown girl.  “Besides, it’s not _that_ bad.  We had plans anyway,” she added condescendingly in a way that reminded Chris uncomfortably of Sherri.

“Gigi,” Chris admonished, “She was just apologizing.”

The girl stood up, painfully embarrassed, as she brushed a nervous hand over her ear.  “No big,” she muttered, and pushed past them brusquely to keep on her way.

Gigi stared after her.  “She was…kind of weird.  Who knocks someone into the ground and then offers to treat their wounds?”

Chris looked down the street where the other girl had run.  “Maybe she’s someone who likes to be prepared.  Doesn’t hurt, you know.”  He looked at Gigi’s bruised knee that showed through the tear in her tights.  “You okay though?”

“Oui,” Gigi responded, and then looked suddenly mischievous.  “Es ist gut.”

“Going German _and_ French now?” Chris asked as he smoothed her hair down.

Gigi shrugged.  “Have to keep my options open, don’t I?”  She smoothed her plaid skirt down over her black tights that she wore against the cold.  “Besides, I like language, and if you start with DuoLingo, you can do a lot of stuff with words, no matter what language.”

Chris nodded in agreement.  “Lyricists the world over are celebrating you.”

Gigi rolled her eyes before sliding her arm around her dad’s waist.  “Well…yeah.”

Chris kissed the top of her head quickly.  “Keep learning those languages, honey.  You’re doing great.”

Gigi smiled at him as they headed for Luke’s, and continued chatting about the similarities between German and English after Chris had checked the minor scrape on her skinned knee and scraped hand.

XXXXX

Luke quickly put together three plates before handing them off to Lane as the lunch rush began to die down.  April had been gone for about half an hour, wanting to see if anything was still swimming in the partially frozen lake of Star’s Hollow.  It was just as well, seeing as he’d barely had time to wave good bye and tell her to be careful before she left.

Still, he hadn’t quite missed the way Rory eyed her as the younger girl had exited.  Luke always wondered privately how Rory felt about April—Lorelai had maintained an enthusiastic, motherly attitude towards April, but Rory had simply remained cordial.  He supposed he couldn’t really blame her, seeing as how the trouble Anna had stirred up (time and time again) had affected Lorelai, not to mention the fact that they really didn’t have much in common, other than being studious learners.

Rory slid her gaze over to him.  There was little iciness there, but it was clear she was remembering their last argument.  It hadn’t been the meanest Luke had ever seen her.  And she was still here, in the diner, so things couldn’t have been that bad.  Her interview had left about five minutes beforehand, and he was considering trying to strike up a conversation when the door to the diner opened as he exited the kitchen.

April walked briskly into the diner, shoving her first-aid kit into her messenger bag as Luke looked up.

“Oh, hey.  I thought you were going to the lake to see if anything was still putting around in the cold,” he said, and frowned at the anxious way she seated herself at the counter.

“Oh, well…I _was_ , but…” April pushed her hair behind her ears, fidgeting and adjusting her glasses.  “I decided to just come back.  It was really cold outside, and honestly, I’ve been working more with bioengineering lately, and trying to keep up with the new tech of 3D printers and biometrics.  Hardly anything I should observe a half-frozen lake for.”

Luke nodded toward her messenger bag as he wiped his hands.  “Why was the first aid kit out?  Are you hurt?  Did you fall?”

Red bloomed on her cheeks, and she awkwardly shook her head.  “No, no…I’m fine.  I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I knocked some kid over like a sack of bricks.  I tried to help, but apparently, it’s weird to be prepared and have a first aid kit in case of the accidental slip, trip, or fall.  It was just really stupid and I feel stupid, and—“

Luke smiled at her.  “You’re not stupid.  You were trying to help.”  He handed a plate off to the patron three seats down before returning to where April sat.  “You want those chocolate chip waffles with blackberries on top?  I can whip them up.”

April gave him a small grin.  “Yeah, that would be great, actually.  Normally, I’d say no, but I seriously _love_ your chocolate chip waffles with the blackberry thing.”

“Alright, coming right up.  If you want, you can head upstairs and watch TV until it’s ready; I can have Lane bring them up.”

She shook her head.  “Nah, I think I’m good here.  If I watch people enough, maybe I can learn how to be one properly,” she finished glumly.

Luke smoothed a hand over her head affectionately.  “Come on, none of that.  You’re just fine.  Sometimes, people don’t know how to react when someone graciously offers to take care of them after an accident.  You just sit, and I’ll—“ He cut off abruptly when he saw Chris and Gigi outside, pointing at something across the street.

April frowned, noting the sudden stop in conversation.  “Is there something wrong?  What’s out—“ She started to turn.

Luke shook his head.  “No, nothing wrong,” he said too loudly, drawing April’s attention back.  “Just thought I saw Taylor is all.  You know he can…do things that piss me off.”

“Well, yeah,” April said, though it was clear she didn’t believe him.  She turned briefly before snapping back.  “Oh, _jeez_ —that’s the girl I knocked over!”  She buried her hands into her hair, staring hard at the counter.  “I’ll go wait upstairs if they come in.”

Luke sighed; he _really_ hadn’t wanted to discuss this yet.  “It’s okay, April.  I know them.”

“They’re not from here; how would you know them?” April asked quizzically, as if it were obvious that Luke didn’t get out of town much (which, to be fair, he really didn’t).

“The guy is a friend of mine, of Lorelai’s really; he’s Rory’s dad.  We hang out sometimes,” Luke said non-committedly.  “I’ll make your waffles.  If they come in, don’t worry about it.  I’ll get everything straightened out.”  He started to turn for the kitchen when April’s voice quietly stopped him.

“So who’s the girl with him?  I knocked her down.”  Her voice was downright mournful.

Luke looked patiently at her, trying to understand (and failing badly) at why she was so upset and anxious about it.  He knew April had her quirks, but he hadn’t pegged anxiety as one of them.  “Her name is Gigi.  That’s his daughter.  His name is Chris.  If you want, talk to them when they come in, but let them know you’re April, yeah?  I’ve told him about you.”

April nodded as some of the red faded from her face, as if the simple knowledge of Luke having told Chris and his daughter were doing her some good.  “Waffles, dad.”

“I’m on it,” Luke said, and refrained from patting her head one more time because he felt it would make her feel childish.  He left for the kitchen, glancing once more out at Chris, who was gesturing toward the gazebo while animatedly telling a story.

Based on the hand gestures, Luke was pretty sure it was either about their fight (doubtful) or about the Knit-a-thon.

Luke probably wouldn’t have ever seen it before, but now…now, he could see the slight hurt on Chris’s face as he relayed the story, hands gesticulating and eyes cast downward.  He sighed and continued on to the kitchen, April’s calculating eyes following him thoughtfully the entire way.

Rory’s gaze never left them, a different sort of analysis on her face.

XXXXX

Chris opened the door to the diner, warily recognizing the head of dark, flyaway hair on a girl sitting by the counter.  He steered Gigi toward a table and they both sat down.  The girl at the counter turned and looked at them for a moment before glaring at the floor and turning stiffly back toward the coffee pots again.

Before he could think more on it though, Luke was coming with a notepad and a pen.

“Here to order?” Luke asked briskly enough, and while Chris admired his business attitude, he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Well, we know the burgers here were better than Bob’s, so we thought we’d stop in.”  Chris leaned back, and laid a hand on Gigi’s shoulder.  “Gigi, this is my friend, Luke.  Luke, my daughter, Gigi.”

Gigi looked up from the menu and smiled, braces shining brightly in the light of the diner.  “Hello,” she said politely, and promptly turned her face back to the menu.

“Hi, Gigi,” Luke said in an obliging sort of tone before setting his attention on Chris.  “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute alone?”

Chris looked at Gigi, who was seemed to be immersed in the menu.  “I’ll be right back, Geege.”

Gigi waved him off dismissively.  “Still looking through the appetizers alone; they should really consider having Gordon Ramsay come through here.”

Chris chuckled as Luke nearly pushed him out the door before he could protest.

Luke crossed his arms tightly once they were outside.  “So…my kid and your kid apparently _met_.”

Chris frowned in thought.  “No…no, I don’t think so.  I mean, I’ve never actually seen a picture of April, so hell if I know.”  He settled his stare on Luke.  “But…what makes you say th— _shit_ , the girl that Gigi ran into.”

“April says she knocked her over.”

“No, no!  Gigi wasn’t paying attention.  It was just an accident, seriously.  Gigi scraped her knee and hand—“

“And April freaked out because she felt like you guys thought she was weird for the first aid kit.”

“Hey, I told Gigi that she was prepared!”

“Yeah, well, now my kid is feeling weird and awkward and wanting her comfort food because _your_ kid thought she was weird!” Luke snapped as he glared at Chris.

Chris sighed.  “I really can’t help that.  Gigi is going to think whatever she wants to.”  He glanced toward the diner as he spoke of his daughter, and noticed that April was sitting at the table with Gigi, talking quickly and pulling out a book as Gigi listened intently.  “And…I don’t think we really have a problem; look.”

Luke glanced over, and the snarky frown faded a bit as he watched them interact.  He let his arms hang fall, his hands settling on his hips.  “Okay, fine.  Maybe teach your kid to not judge?”

“Maybe teach yours to look up every now and again and not assume people think she’s weird?”

“April is…she doesn’t always know that she’s in someone’s space,” Luke said a bit weakly.  “And anyway, what are you two even doing here?”

The knot that had started to untangle in Chris’s stomach suddenly tightened sharply.  “Shit, Gigi was meeting Rory at the diner; Rory was going to look at something Gigi wrote for French class.”

They both turned just as Rory approached the table Gigi and April’s table.

XXXXX

Rory walked over to the table where April had pulled out a novelization of “ _Stargate: Atlantis_ ”, explaining physics as Gigi inquired more about the characters.  “Hi, Gigi!  How’s school?” when she found a moment between the two talking.

April and Gigi both looked up.

“Rory!” Gigi crowed in excitement, and wrapped her arms around her.  “Where were you?  I didn’t see you when we came in.”

Rory smiled.  “I was hiding in the back corner by the window over there.  It’s a nice quiet spot, even when it’s busy.  That way, I could hear during the interview.”

“So, who were you interviewing?  Dad filled me in a little…something about small towns and police,” Gigi said, but it was clear she didn’t remember the full extent.

“Something about that, yeah.  I was talking to the police chief and it ran over since his wife was one of my teachers at Star’s Hollow Junior High,” Rory said, and slid into the seat beside of Gigi and across from April.  “And you, I heard you finished up high school and you got into some schools.  Any choices on that one?” she asked, directing her polite attention to April.

April shrugged, hunching a little in her seat as she closed her book.  “M.I.T.  So…I’ll just let you two visit; I’ve got some chores to do upstairs and I know Rory probably doesn’t have much time to spare.”  She fled fairly quickly before coming back and handing her book to Gigi.  “You know, I’ve got another copy at my mom’s house and I’ve read it like…six times.  You seemed to like the characters a lot, so if you want, you can borrow it.”

Gigi’s face lit up.  “Really?”

April nodded.  “Sure.  It’s a lot of science though.”

Gigi looked at her slightly indignantly.  “My science grades aren’t _too_ bad.  Besides, you said someone in here is a linguist?”

“Yup,” April confirmed.  “Not too big a character.  See how you like that, and if you want, maybe we can start swapping books.  Kind of like pen-pals.”

“Sounds tres magnifique!” Gigi replied and waved as April disappeared up the stairs.  She turned her full attention to Rory.  “Speaking of French, my essay.”

“Not so fast,” Rory said as she opened up fully.  “I wanna hear all about your school, your friends.  Are you settling in okay?  Is it like Hogwarts at all, with the dormitories and the professors but no magic, of course; that would be silly.”

Gigi rolled her eyes.  “It’s not that big a deal.  I mean, yeah; I share a room with three other girls.  I’ve made some friends already, but the two French girls I know hang out with the older girls, and honestly, they weren’t exactly… _nice_ because of my accent when I tried to talk to them.”

“Oh, well, don’t worry about them.  Besides, I bet _their_ English accent is awful.”

“They don’t really speak much English.  I’ve been picking up some German from one of the roommates I told you about, Emilia, and Emma already speaks Spanish, but it’s the Castilian dialect, so it’s interesting to compare.  Portuguese is really weird though, so I haven’t learned much from it.  Oh, and there’s this Welsh girl, but _oh my god_ , have you seen _Welsh_?”

“I know!  What happened to the vowels?” Rory agreed.  “So, your dad tells me you’re into writing.”

“Yeah…I don’t like essays that much.  Me and my friend, Charlotte—well, I call her Lottie—write a lot of stories about stuff we come up with though.  You know, mostly fantasy stuff.  I’ve been reading “Lord of the Rings” lately, and she’s been reading “Discworld”.”

“Both very good choices,” Rory said, though she didn’t personally agree.  Would it kill Gigi to pick up a book by someone who didn’t speak English as their primary language?  “I read “ _Les Miserables_ ” when I was your age.  The unabridged, because I didn’t want to miss a thing.”

“Yeah…we have to read the original French version,” Gigi said, clearly not liking the idea.  “I mean, it’s _good_ , and stuff…just…I don’t know; it’s depressing.  I have a big paper to write for it as my final.  Something existential or whatever about Valjean’s journey for redemption.”  She propped her chin on her hand with obvious reluctance concerning the final paper she had mentioned.  “Really not looking forward to it.  As bad as it is, while I want people to _read_ my stories and not see some movie about it, I wish I could just listen to the musical and get everything I need.  The book is _so long_.”

“But it’s totally worth it,” Rory tried to encourage.  “And try to get some Tolstoy in there.  And some Pushkin.  Even some Goethe would be good, if you like German that much.  Oh, and if you’re really iffy on your French, _definitely_ try some Voltaire and Proust.”

“I’ll think about it.  My plate’s pretty full with “ _Les Miserables_ ” and trying to wrap my head around French grammar and the gender thing and sentence structure.”  Gigi reached into her backpack (issued by her school given the logo on it) and pulled out a folder.  “So, my essay.”

“Your essay,” Rory said, and took the folder from her.  “What’s it about?”

“This one was sort of easy, I guess…I’ve been at the school for three months with the other girls, and Madam Blanchard wanted us to write about our perspectives of the other students.  Cultural differences and stuff.  You know, how are we perceiving France, what’s it like to meet kids from other countries.”

“Cool stuff,” Rory praised.  “And you’re worried about grammar?”

“And gender,” Gigi offered, if defensively.  “And sentence structure.  French is _hard_.  I’m picking up the German so much easier.”

Rory looked over the folder curiously.  “Do you know why?”

“Well, _duh_ ; German and English are from the same language tree.  Still, Spanish seems easier than French.”

“So “yo” meaning “I” doesn’t bother you?  Because it tripped me up all the time.”

Gigi shook her head.  “No, because “tu” sounds like “you”, so I just remember that instead.”

Rory shrugged.  “Fair enough.”  She began perusing Gigi’s essay.  “So, Dad’s hanging out with Luke a lot.”

Gigi looked out the window where Chris and Luke talked.  “Yeah, I guess.  Dad didn’t really say anything.  I just really wanted burgers from here; I haven’t had them since I was _ten_.”

“Awful; Dad should know better than that,” Rory groaned.  “Well, we’ll order when Luke comes back in.  How’d you meet April?  She’s Luke’s daughter, you know.”

“Yeah, Dad told me.  I wasn’t paying attention, and I guess she wasn’t either, but we literally ran into each other on the sidewalk.  It was no big deal.”  Gigi poked the folder.  “My essay?”  She turned her gaze back to Luke and Chris inquisitively as they headed back for the diner.

“Right, I’m reading,” Rory said quickly, and turned her full attention to the foreign words written prettily in neat, precise cursive.

XXXXX

Chris came back into the diner as Luke went to check on Rory and Gigi for their order.  He noticed a small movement at the bottom of the stairwell, and headed ostensibly for the bathroom, only to see April tucked into a corner of a step, head buried in a book about bees.

“Hey there,” Chris said casually, sitting on the stair with her but keeping an appropriate distance.

April jumped slightly, having been genuinely engrossed in her book.  “Hi,” she said with a hint of question to her voice, as if she wasn’t sure why he would even be talking to her.  “So…funny seeing you here?”

Chris chuckled.  “I just wanted to let you know I’m sorry about what I said, about being prepared.  Gigi can be…a force of her own sort, and I just wanted you to know that once she thinks about it more, she’ll probably think it’s cool you have your own first aid kit.”

April shrugged.  “I’ll get over it.  It was just…awkward, and I don’t really… _do_ awkward that well.”  She looked at him where he sat at the opposite end of the step.  “So…you’re friends with my dad?”

“Yeah.  He needed a good listening ear a while ago, and he and I go back a bit.”  He leaned against the wall.  “And what about you?  I didn’t know you were staying with your dad.”

“Well…things got weird with my mom.  I want to go to M.I.T.”

Chris sat up a bit straighter.  “Pretty good school.  What’s wrong with that one?”

“She thinks I’m only going because someone I know is going there,” April muttered forcibly.  “But you’re right!  It’s an _amazing_ school.  I got in, didn’t I?  And it’s not like I wouldn’t get an amazing education there.  But she thinks it’s _just_ an engineering school, and my thing is more biology and ecology and microbiology, and she doesn’t get that I just want to go there.”

“Someone you know, huh,” Chris asked idly, crooking his knee up and resting his arm over it.  “So…she thinks you’re following a crush to a school that isn’t right for you?”

April’s face darkened with a blush, though it was hard to see in the shadows of the stairwell.  “It’s not _like_ that,” she stressed.  “M.I.T. is coming up with some of the coolest tech you’ll ever see in biometrics, tagging for animal tracking.  Besides, with the way the bees are going, we’ll _need_ that kind of microtech and I want to be on the front of it.  I want to be out there, _doing_ something about the environment instead of just sitting back and writing reports that stupid right-wing asshats won’t believe anyway.”

“I wouldn’t know which school is good for that,” Chris replied honestly with a smile.  “My kid went to Yale and I give Princeton the finger.”

“Well…” April said in consideration.  “U-Penn isn’t _that_ bad for their science programs.  But I really want M.I.T.  It’s _so_ hard to get into, and I _did_.  I’m _18_ , shouldn’t I get to decide what I want?”

Chris settled his gaze on Rory, who was editing through Gigi’s essay as Gigi read the book given to her by April.  “I think if you want to make it work, you’ll find a way.”

April looked at him with a youthful sort of earnestness.  “You think?” she asked uncertainly.  “I mean, Dad says I could bulldoze a brick wall with just my feet if I put my mind to it, but he _has_ to say that; he’s my dad.  I knocked your kid over on the sidewalk.  I saw the scrapes.”

“She wasn’t paying attention either,” Chris pointed out, but noticed Luke at Rory and Gig’s table now.  He smiled fondly as Luke spoke with both girls, even as Rory waved him off so she could concentrate.  “And yeah, I think if you want something badly enough, then it’s worth the trouble you’ll go through to get it.  That’s what my grandpa always said.”

April tilted her head at him in curiosity, following his line of sight to where Luke stood at the table, listening obediently to Gigi.  She looked back at Chris again.  “Just friends.  _Huh_.”  With that, she stood up quickly.

Chris stood too, wondering what, exactly, she’d seen.

April stuck her hand out bluntly.  “It was nice meeting you.  You have a very symmetrical face.  I think your daughter got it too.”

Chris shook her hand, surprised a bit by the strong grip.  “Uh…thanks?  It was nice to meet you too.  Luke talks about you all the time.”

“Probably,” April said with a small, impish smile.  “I’m pretty awesome, you know.”  She didn’t let go of his hand right away.  “So’s my dad.  And he kinda seems to like you.”  She looked from side to side suddenly, and leaned closer.  “He’s a lot of work, but once you get past all his blustering…well, I probably don’t have to tell you.”

Now it was Chris’s turn to feel the blood darken his cheeks and ears.  “Oh, it’s not…it isn’t—“

April only grinned and rolled her eyes.  “Sure it isn’t.  I watch _way_ too many nature videos to believe _that_.  Have a nice day!”  She jogged up the stairs before he could even _think_ to formulate a reply.

Chris sighed and looked back out at where Luke was still making (stilted, by the look of it) chit-chat with Gigi as Rory intently scanned the papers in front of her and made notes.  Luke looked up, making eye contact with him at the base of the stairwell, and waved haltingly, a half-smile smoothing the edges of a nervous face.

Waving back, Chris wondered where the sudden surge of affection came from.  Sure, since this thing had started, he wasn’t _as_ surprised by those feelings anymore, but this was different.  He was certain it had something to do with the fact their kids were a little involved now, seeing as Luke was definitely getting to know Gigi (who was still talking and gesturing wildly about something) and Chris had just had his own meet-and-greet (as it were) with April.

He leaned against the wall as Luke finally took a seat next to Gigi and Rory started to explain something about the papers she was reading through.

Chris wasn’t sure where a lot of the feelings were coming from.  It wasn’t just affection or fondness or even the fact that he had to stop himself from watching the hard, muscular lines of Luke’s frame as he crouched into the chair.  No, something else entirely was burning hard in his gut, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to acknowledge it yet.

Still, his mind supplied it anyway.  He was falling, and he was going down hard.  As he watched Luke interact both easily and uneasily with Gigi as Rory read with concentration, the feeling in his stomach intensified when Rory laughed at something that Gigi had said and Luke chuckled along with them.

Chris sighed again, and exited the stairwell.  Things were going too fast.  It was starting to overwhelm him entirely, and he really wanted to try and think for just a minute.  Hell, they had barely done more than _kiss_ , and now their kids were getting introduced.

The most frightening part was that he didn’t _want_ to slow down, and as for _that_ feeling…well, he really _didn’t_ understand where it had come from.

Maybe they did need some kind of break, some space from each other, perhaps.  His heart jumped a shaky staccato at the thought, but he willed it to calm down while still struggling to make the anxiety go away.  He couldn’t possibly be falling for someone he’d done little more than make out with.

Yet here he stood, not more than ten feet away, and he felt like his heart was about to spill from his body, laying down words he wasn’t even sure he had anymore.

Rory looked at him as Luke and Gigi’s conversation began to stutter to an end, her eyes curious and slightly cold.

Chris swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, and wondered if it was possible for the rapid thump in his rib cage to break his chest.  April was right at least—Luke was a _lot_ of work, but worth it.  His grandfather had been right too—anything worth having was worth the struggle to get it.

The problem was that he was falling quickly and unrepentantly, and he wanted to do this right, and he didn’t want to fuck this up like so many other things in his life.  He had always wanted to move quickly in the past, trying to find the sense of family that has always evaded him, that feeling of working all day and coming home to a happy wife (working or not) and a well-adjusted child.  Now, however…he knew it was moving rapidly, events twisting ever faster in a deviating spiral that neither he or Luke seemed unable to control.  Whether he wanted to or not, he knew what he would have to do.

The step back was going to _hurt_ , and Chris knew it.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, real talk. This chapter and the next are giving me some real trouble, and while I normally have a chapter already written (but in need of editing) to go, I'm not gonna bullshit here: the next chapter is about halfway done, writing-wise, with the editing process still to go. I hope you stick with me on it, because I'm determined to finish this.
> 
> I'm projecting about a few days before it's done being written, and another for final edits/tweaks/questions to my normal beta, LSR.
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with this story, folks. Even if it's giving me...issues (lol), I'm still stubbornly committed to finishing it. And let's be fair, redheads can be stubborn, and while I'm not always the typical redhead (temperamental, brash, in-your-face), I am being stubborn as fuck about finishing this.
> 
> TL;DR: Next chapter is about halfway done; thank you for being patient and liking this story!


	13. I Thought That We Were Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gigi and Chris talk before she goes back to school. Luke and April talk before she goes out with a friend. Lorelai and Rory talk before she puts away groceries.
> 
> In any case, daughters make a stand for their fathers and mothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Okay, first, I want to apologize for how long it took for this chapter to come out. Seriously, I hadn’t realized just how long it had been, and I didn’t realize how bad the writer’s block was with this chapter.  
> Just want to leave some quick messages here:
> 
> MusicalRedhead: Dude, you actually dislodged the writer’s block! I was stuck at the end of a scene, and a suggestion you made got me out of my block. Thank you!
> 
> Van909: It really meant a lot that you were checking in with me. I appreciate it so much. Thank you!
> 
> HeartlessSam: I left out the period just in case FFnet thought it was a link or something. Thank you for checking in as well; I hope this fix is to your liking!
> 
> And further author’s notes: Seriously, the writer’s block was strong with this chapter. Thank you for all that stuck with it, still have it fave’d or followed or alerted, etc. I’m still having a blast writing this, when writer’s block isn’t kicking me in my ass. I’m in the air right now with three projects, and this is the first one I’ve been able to complete a chapter on in forever!
> 
> TL;DR: This chapter brought to you by reviewers, MusicalRedhead, Van909, HeartlessSam, and LegacySoulReaver. Mildly beta’d, because I really wanted to get this chapter out.

Gigi was quietly humming and penning corrections to her French essay in her room while Chris worked absently at his computer.  His heart wasn’t really in it, and when he found himself looking at the same page of coding for ten minutes, he resolutely pushed his laptop away as he wiped a hand over his face.

“How’s the essay coming?” he called out to Gigi.

“ _Assez bien_ ,” she replied distractedly as he approached her room.  She looked tired as he came in, absently kissing her head.  “ _J’ai faim_.”

Chris remembered the ill-fated elopement with Lorelai, the trip to France, the five-am walk around Paris just trying to find food.  “I’ll bring you _l’pomme_.”

“Apple is good,” she replied distantly.

He chuckled and left the room to grab an apple from the bowl that he kept in the kitchen before giving it to Gigi, who absently thanked him ( _jeez_ , _did she just thank him in Basque?  What languages was she getting into?_ ).  She returned to her paper, scribbling notes quickly onto another page.

Chris dropped onto his couch, steadfastly ignoring the three texts and one missed call he had from Luke on his cell phone.  He scratched at the stubble on his chin, trying not to remember how Luke’s face had felt so close to his own, how the difference between soft lips and rough scruff had created just enough of a subtle difference to be _incredible_.

In any case, it wasn’t as if he didn’t _want_ to check those text messages; he really, _really_ did.  It wasn’t like he didn’t want to call back, because again, he genuinely wanted to.  At the same time though, he didn’t exactly have anything to say about why he had stepped back.  He didn’t want to give an excuse, or anything else that sounded half-cocked and unjustified or…well, like an _excuse_ , really.

Sighing, Chris leaned his head against the back of the couch, feeling weary of the whole thing and wondering if he should scrap it all together.  At the very least, he didn’t want this affecting his weekend with Gigi, and he needed to be able to think clearly to get through it.

When he got up to see if Gigi was still hungry, he found her fast asleep at the oak desk in her room.  Her apple lay to the side with only a couple of bites taken out.

Chris smiled—it seemed Gigi was still having some issues with jet lag.  He shook her awake gently, chuckling humorously when she batted at him and mumbled something in German.  His grin softened as he steered her toward the bed, half-carrying her in support.  He tapped her nose with his finger, and she nuzzled her pillow in sleep, as if indulging the familiar action.

The phone in his pocket began vibrating again, and he shut Gigi’s door quickly in case she had the same hyper-sensitive hearing that Sherri did, and winced when he recognized Luke’s number flashing at him.  As the call went to voicemail, he saw another text as well.

Chris sighed reluctantly.  He didn’t have anything ready to say, and he definitely already hated the awkward snarls of guilty shame curling deep in his chest.  Luke at least deserved some kind of response or call, because it wasn’t like Luke _knew_ why Chris was ignoring him.

More than likely, Luke was see-sawing between indignant anger (the heavier counterweight) and hurt frustration (the much lighter side of the playground toy), and even Chris, for all he could be an expert at shoving everything down in favor of absolute focus ( _okay, avoidance_ ), knew Luke deserved better.

God, Luke deserved better.  Better than the guy who divorced the woman Luke had loved, better than a guy with yet another kid still to raise when Luke had just finally gotten April mostly into college…

Hell, better than a guy who thought sending his kid off to boarding school (pre-determined custody agreements be damned at this point) was a _good_ idea, something to be proud of somehow, to shoo your child off to a year-long camp with brief visitations in between.

Chris shook his head, gripping his phone in a suddenly sweaty palm as the judgmental tone from Luke washed over him again.  Maybe they really weren’t suited—they weren’t even from the same _world_ , and yet…

They seemed to be reconciling their worlds just fine, but at the end of the day, Luke’s damning question of how Chris would feel about losing Rory still remained.  The icy stare Rory had seemed to briefly deign him with indicated exactly what she thought about the latest developments, and had left little room for imagination.

He checked in on Gigi again briefly, and decided it was worth it to wake up at 5AM when she would quietly boot up Netflix at a volume she thought acceptable for the timing.  It was, actually, but he knew he would be up right behind her, per the creak in Gigi’s bedroom door that he intentionally had never fixed.  It was almost a foolish sort of hope that maybe Gigi _wouldn’t_ want to go to boarding school, would fight him every step of the way, and would demand to stay with him the way Rory fiercely clung to Lorelai.

In the end, however, he settled for getting very little sleep, and quietly sidling up to Gigi as they watched exactly three and a half episodes of _Stargate: SG-1_.

During the second, she curled up against him in a way she hadn’t done since she was four.  “So…Luke’s the reason things are “complicated”, huh.”

He almost hated the way it wasn’t a question, but admired her definitive tone of voice.  “Well…yeah.”

Gigi hitched up further.  “Well…do you like him a lot?”  She twisted and turned until she had her back against his side, watching the blue iris of a stargate light up on screen.  “I mean, you must, if you won’t tell _me_ about it.”

Her tone sounded hurt then, and Chris responded by hugging her closer.  “Yeah, Geege.  I like him a lot.  It makes things really…difficult between Lore, Rory, and I.”

Gigi huffed against him, but said nothing in favor of watching the TV show.  It was a long moment, one that stretched on further than Chris cared to admit, before she spoke again.  She still wasn’t quite looking at him, when her voice pierced the darkness in a quiet way that nearly startled him.  He shifted, eyes moving to her, but Gigi was still looking at the ethereal glow of the television.

“Well…it’s not like Lore or Rory ever made things easy for you.  I mean, I don’t know _every_ thing that went on; I can only think for myself on it, I guess.  But to _me_ ,” Gigi stressed the word importantly, and Chris was only just beginning to understand Gigi’s emphases, her points made by one word alone really, “To _me_ …it seems like Rory should probably know that she’s got two parents, not one.  And if it makes you happy…well, why shouldn’t you be with who you want to?”

Gigi’s face was suddenly buried abruptly and hotly into Chris’s side.

“Hey, hey, what’s this?  Why are you hiding?”  Chris prickled his own hands around Gigi’s wrists, pulling her away until she was looking at him with a pair of eyes that reminded him entirely too much of Rory’s calculatingly cold stare in the diner.  “Gigi, what’s going on?”

“You should be happy!” she blurted out as she brought his hands down forcefully.  “And you know it.  I’ve heard your phone going off _all night_ , and seriously…Dad, don’t be that guy.  Don’t be…” She looked conflicted again, much as she had when asking if she could know something before Rory did.  “Dad…just…don’t wait.  Don’t be someone else’s side character, someone else’s plot mover.  Be their plot.”

Chris felt much as if someone had punched him in the chest.  If it had been the gut, he would have been okay, because honestly, throwing up was a lot easier than feeling like your kid was making your heart _fucking stop_.

“Oh, Geege…it’s not like that,” Chris started, but Gigi suddenly waved a finger reminiscent of Taylor Doose in front of his face, and he stopped, his voice catching and chilling in his throat.

“Dad, I’m a _writer_ , I _see_ things,” Gigi said in the most dramatic 13-year-old voice Chris had ever heard, but the sting of truth remained.  She separated from her father, if only to pin him with the stare he had seen so many times on Rory’s face when she was really delving into a topic.  “And I can _tell_.  Besides, April _likes_ you.”

“There’s a lot of things going on here,” Chris said, determined to not let his daughter lead the conversation on his romantic life.  “And I can’t just barge in the way you want me to.  Life isn’t always a story.”

Gigi rolled her eyes, still looking incredibly alert and (to Chris, eerily) in depth.  “But a story is always life.  Stop ignoring him, Dad.  I get it.”

Beyond talk of breakfast, they exchanged few other words.  It was the little moments that always snagged Chris and caught him by surprise though.

And this one was no different.  As they garbed up against the cold outside, Gigi turned her bright, smiling face to him and grabbed both his hands.

“Look, Dad…all I’m saying is that I think you should go for it.  And April does too.  If Rory doesn’t think so…well…that’s up to Rory, now isn’t it?”

Gigi’s question was finished primly enough that Chris was suddenly glad that he’d had _some_ influence on her.

The texts and calls still went unanswered, though Chris took a moment to at least read the last text message from Luke as Gigi grabbed her hat, gloves, and scarf from her bedroom.

 

_I thought that we were fine._

 

Chris shut his eyes tightly, hand twitching almost imperceptibly around his phone as Gigi bounded back into the room, all traces of her earlier solemnity gone.  As she chattered in the background about their plans for the day, Chris sent a quick text back because he couldn’t keep ignoring Luke.

 

_We were._

 

XXXXX

Rory bounced her pencil on the kitchen table at her mother’s house pensively, playing over the stilted looks her father had been shooting Luke.  She wasn’t always great at picking up on social cues, but there was definitely something heated and poorly hidden on her dad’s face, and she was pretty sure it meant exactly what she thought.

Far be it upon her to judge anyone, but if it was going to hurt her mother, then she would damn well judge whoever she pleased— _especially_ since her father had set up time to spend as family, only for Rory to spend most of it editing a French essay (that, admittedly, didn’t need that much editing).

She looked to the hall as the door opened and shut.  “Hey, mom,” she called out, hoping she was able to mask the thought in her voice.

Lorelai frowned at her, dropping groceries haphazardly onto the table.  “Uh-oh,” she said bluntly.

Rory looked up from her book (an old favorite, _“What Is To Be Done”_ ) and was immediately pinned with her mother’s glare.  “Jeez, I swear you could patent that look but Wonder Woman would frisk you for the lasso.”

“You’re reading a novel deeper than the Mariana Trench by…” Lorelai trailed as she eyed the Russian name, “Chevy Chase, since that’s as close as I’m going to even _attempt_ to pronounce that—“

“Chernychevsky,” Rory supplied.

“Chevy Chase,” Lorelai responded primly.  “But seriously, Russian literature and the look on your face and your general disposition would indicate in my vast experience of…you know, being your mother, that something’s bothering you.”  She sat down at the table, groceries forgotten and half-blocking her view of Rory.  “You want to talk about it?”

“Not with your week’s supply of junk in front of my face,” Rory muttered, staring at her book.  Her concentration was broken though, and the words were already blending together.  “Or _ever_ ,” she mumbled even lower.

Lorelai rolled her eyes and dropped the bags to the ground.  “Not putting them away until you talk about it, and I’ve got spoilable stuff in there.  Next thing you know, I’ll have wildlife eating it, and then they’ll do my bidding, and _you_ will be responsible for when I take over the world ala Snow White.”

Rory sighed and closed her book resolutely.  It wasn’t like she hadn’t read it before anyway, and frankly, it was depressing to love a novel that Lenin had loved so much as well.  Then again, it _was_ Russian literature.

“Well, I had lunch with Gigi.  She’s home from boarding school, and Dad asked me to look at her French essay.”  Rory sat back in the chair.  “It really didn’t need much looking though.  April was there when I got there.”

Lorelai nodded, but a coolness had already come over her eyes.  “Well…that must’ve been interesting to some extent.  I suppose Anna was lurking around in the shadows.”

“No,” Rory edged out.  “It was just…weird, the way Dad was looking at Luke.  And then April was talking to Dad later on too.”  She snapped her fingers, trying (and failing) to ignore the odd cast to her mother’s face.  “By the way, we have _got_ to talk to Dad about what he’s letting Gigi read and watch.  She’s reading fanfiction.  I mean, jeez; there’s _so_ many great books in the world; why not read those first?”

“Hey, knock off of fanfiction,” Lorelai replied, but there was little heat to her words.  “Gigi’s fine.  So your dad and Luke were…looking at each other?”

Rory sighed, unsure (and maybe a little unwilling) to discuss it any further than she had.  “Look, mom…you know I’ve got your back.  I mean, I’m not crazy about Dad using what should’ve been our time together to have me grade a middle schooler’s essay, especially when it didn’t really need it.  Seriously, Gigi’s French skills are insane, and Dad was saying she’s into other languages too, picks it up pretty well.  She might be a little polyglot for all we know.”

“Rory,” Lorelai interrupted sharply.  “What are you not saying?”

Rory picked at the well-read pages of her book.  “Just…they were looking at each other a little bit like they used to look at you.”

Lorelai nodded, picking her fingers along the cloth on the table.  “Okay then.  Potential full on _Birdcage_ then with a side of “When Harry Met Jess” instead of Sally.”

“Mom, I don’t think it’s…really like that,” Rory drifted off, because her mother had deliberately picked up the grocery bags, putting them away without responding.

XXXXX

April set the table carefully, all too aware of her father’s agitated behavior.  He had been like that since she had met Chris, and at this point, she was pretty tired of walking on eggshells around him.

Luke banged into the small apartment, the door slamming shut with the swift kick he had given it.  He dropped two to-go cartons on the table, his back turned as he grabbed a beer while the cartons bounced in front of April.

She sort of nodded to herself as she watched him glare at his phone, and then toss it on the kitchen counter near the sink.

“So,” April led with caution, “I was thinking that maybe I would call Mom and try to talk things out a little.”

Luke glanced at her tiredly.  “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.  I’ll even put you through college myself if I have to.”

April tilted her head a bit.  “Some support would be good, but I’m pretty sure financial aid and the scholarship I got is going to foot most of it.  And there’s always research projects; the first year might be rough, but I have options.”

He sighed, sitting at the table more gently than he had moved since Chris and Gigi had been in the diner with Rory, whose attitude had been abnormally cold (not that Rory had ever been particularly friendly or open to her).  “Look, I know I haven’t been easy to live with this week…”

“Stalin was easier during the purge of Russia,” April muttered as she opened cartons, placing food carefully and specifically on the plates.

Luke glared at her, but there was amusement hiding behind his features.  “Hitler during his last days?”

April pointed a finger at him.  “Getting warmer.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Luke said sincerely.  “I’m just out of sorts.  Business is a little down, things were a little weird with Rory and Gigi here.”  He looked up with an uncertain, curious look.  “What were you and Gigi’s dad talking about anyway?”

April shrugged.  “The birds and the bees.”

Luke dropped his fork.

“But mostly the bees,” April followed up.  She finally sat down now with a glass of milk for herself.  “He’s not talking to you?”

“Honey, I don’t think we should be talking about whatever’s going on between Gigi’s dad and I.”

“His name is Chris, you know.”

“Fine, with Chris and I.  Either way, I know I’ve been a heel all week, but I don’t think talking about my personal relationships with my daughter is the way to work through it.”  He looked at her seriously.  “And I don’t think you going back to your mother’s is the answer either.  You came here for a reason.”

She nodded, pushing the sweet potato fries around on her plate (Luke only really kept them in stock for her; they weren’t a big seller).  “Yeah, but I don’t want to leave for college with all this mess between Mom and me.  I think some time apart will have done us some good, and if it hasn’t?”  She smashed a fry into the plate glumly.  “Well, I’ll deal.”

“April,” Luke said gently, stilling one of her hands.  “You have at least one supportive parent who’s ready to do whatever they can to send you to the college you want.  If you want to try and make things right with your mom, that’s great.  If it doesn’t end well…you can come back here.”

“I know, Dad.  I just…I just really wish she could see how much I want to go there.”

Luke sat back in his chair, crossing his arms.  “Now, this person she thinks you’re following.  Is that true?”

“ _Dad_!”

“I just wanted to ask,” Luke responded neutrally.  “I mean, your mother hasn’t called here once, which means she must be pretty damn certain of her judgment.  While I don’t normally defer to her observations, I did want to ask.”

April gave a tiny sigh.  “So…yes, this person I know.  Sam’s going to MIT as well, yes.  And I do like Sam; we’re in a lot of the same clubs, and we listen to the same music…and yeah, Sam’s kind of awesome.”  She stared at Luke fiercely.  “But MIT is still an excellent school, and I am 100% sure that I want to go there.  If I hate it after the first year, I’m prepared to go to a school of Mom’s choosing.”

“That’s the deal you’re going to take to her?” Luke asked, genuinely curious.

April nodded definitively.  “Yes.  And I think it’s a perfectly acceptable compromise.  I’ll go to MIT because I want to, and if it’s really what she thinks—that it’s not a great school for me or my choices—than I’ll go to something of her choice, or something we can at least agree on.”

“And you’re sure that going to MIT isn’t because of Sam?” Luke asked.

“Absolutely,” April replied, eyes focused and direct.  “Without a doubt.”

Luke nodded in acceptance.  “Okay then.  Let me know if you want a ride to your mother’s house or if you want some support, anything like that, yeah?”

“Okay,” April replied, and though she didn’t look like she would take him up on the offer, her general posture indicated she was grateful.

Luke looked over at the neglected cell phone, and instead, placed his full attention back on April, who was now staring back at him.  He got the sudden gut feeling she was about to drop a bomb over something, as if stating her intention to try and fix things with Anna wasn’t enough (because it inevitably meant Luke would be getting a phone call).

April opened her burger and reached for the Italian dressing that Luke kept on the table for her.  “You know,” she said casually enough that Luke was tempted to let his guard down as she drizzled a scant amount over the top bun, “You really ought to call Chris back.  He likes you, like…over the moon for you.  And you ignoring him isn’t going to help.”

Luke jabbed a fork into his side salad.  “ _I’m_ not the one ignoring him,” he grumbled, but April looked at him sympathetically, as if she could hear the confused hurt in his voice that he had been sure he had hidden.

“Well…I guess you ought to make it so he can’t ignore you,” April replied in consideration.  “Sounds like you guys were fine.”

Luke snorted softly, remembering a text exchange that April didn’t know about.  “I thought we were.”

XXXXX

With a tearful Gigi dropped off at the airport and a quick call to Sherrie, Chris found himself alone in his apartment, the silence overwhelming and harsh.  He tried playing _Stargate_ again, but now he didn’t want to watch it without Gigi, who was chittering about Daniel Jackson and linguistics and how if she got good enough, she could translate things no one else could.

Chris instead lay flopped on the couch, his phone forgotten and a sheer reminder at this point of everything he didn’t want to risk again.  The TV played in the background, a bright, soft glow in the dimness of his living room.  He ran his hands anxiously over his face, wishing he could find the right words to tell Luke that maybe things were a bit more serious than they thought, or that Chris was far more comfortable with the idea than he had originally realized.

And, as had been wont to do in his life recently, there was a knock on the door.

Chris sighed irritably before rising and looking through the peephole of his apartment door.  He was surprised, to say the least, but still opened it.  “Well, this is…unexpected.”

April peered at him in a scrutinizing fashion, as if she were looking at something through a microscope and trying to adjust the focus.  “I took a cab,” she said bluntly.  “Because you need a kick in the pants.”

Chris scoffed slightly.  “I’m sorry?”

“Look,” she said stubbornly in a way that reminded him remarkably of Luke, “It’s one thing if my dad’s ignoring you.  He does that from time to time because he just gets stuck in his own head and thinks that he doesn’t deserve better for whatever crap reason of the week he’s picked.  But he _likes_ you, okay?  And I’m his kid, which means I get to tell you when he’s hurting.  And you know what?  He’s _hurting_.  So either you get your stupid ass in gear, or I’ll use my influence as his daughter to convince him you’re just a dick that doesn’t deserve the time of day.”

“April, it’s a lot more complicated than that,” Chris replied, struggling to quell the panic rising in his chest, even as it spread outward to his shoulders.  He was already risking losing his own kid; he didn’t want to alienate another in the process.  “And while I appreciate the sentiment, I needed to back off for a minute.  I had my own kid with me, and there’s a lot of other things going on.”

April rolled her eyes.  “I don’t have the same reverence for Rory that Gigi seems to have been raised with, so I’m just going to be an asshole and say it.  Who the hell cares what _Rory_ has to say about your personal life?  She can’t change the fact that you’re her father, right?  That’s always going to be true.  So far as Lorelai goes…”  She huffed, pieces of frizzy, flyaway hair curling away from her face.  “She doesn’t have to approve, even if she does judge.  It’s _your life_.  And you know what?  Gigi seemed to think so too.”  She shifted so that her feet were planted firmly on the floor, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.  “So quit hurting my dad just because Rory and Lorelai think it’s stupid.”

“That’s not all of it,” Chris started, but April glared at him furiously.

“You’re hurting my _dad_ ,” she said emphatically.  “And that hurts _me_.”

Chris sighed, staring in defeat at the ground.  April’s low-top converses were lime-green—he sort of liked it.  “Yeah, but being with your dad means hurting _my kid_ and the mother of my kid, and I know Rory will always have Lore’s back.  Being with your dad…”  His hand clenched around the door that he held open for April.  “It means risking a lot of things that I’m not entirely sure will work out.”

April crossed her arms stubbornly.  “I’m not leaving until you text him and tell him that then.  He deserves to know why you’re shutting him out.”

“Really?” Chris asked tiredly.

“ _Try me_ ,” April said defiantly.

XXXXX

Two hours, forty-three minutes, and an abandoned cup of coffee later, April was curled up on the couch, asleep.

Chris reluctantly picked up his phone and called Luke.  Whatever they had (or weren’t going to have), Luke deserved to know April was safe.

“Hey,” Luke said in a surprised (if panicked voice).  “Look, I’m really glad you called, but—“

“April’s _here_ ,” Chris interrupted.  “She’s sound asleep on the couch.  She said…” He hesitated.  “She wouldn’t leave until I called you, and she fell asleep during her protest.”

Luke sighed.  “Look, I’m sorry; she said she was going to hang out with a friend, and then she wasn’t home by curfew, and I was just getting ready to call the police—“

“Well, she’s here.  Do you want to pick her up?  I mean, she can stay here; I don’t mind.”

A tense puff of air came over the phone.  “What do you mean , she “wouldn’t leave”?”

Chris stared at the ceiling, and adjusted the blanket over April’s shoulders.  “She just wouldn’t.  Do you want to come and get her?”

“I just want to know she’s okay,” Luke replied, but there was something in his voice, something strained and tiny and determined.  It was full of other things that Chris couldn’t name, but made his heart pound until he was imagining a pain in his left shoulder and wondering if an aspirin would keep him breathing until the ambulance could show up.

He had finished the call fairly uneventfully and was waiting for Luke when he realized what at least one of the things he had heard was.

Luke _knew_ April was fine with him, which Chris, having two daughters of his own, rationally knew that Luke would acknowledge as well.  April was 18 and stubborn, but she was in safe hands.  What it really came down to wasn’t the fact that Luke wanted to know that April was okay.

He wanted to see if _Chris_ was okay.

It made his heart clench and his stomach give way to knots.  When the knock came on his door, Chris opened it, saw Luke’s worried, miserable face, and immediately wrapped his fingers into the lapels of Luke’s flannel shirt, and jerked him in for a kiss.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Oh my freaking god, I am so sorry it took me this long to update. I hit a massive writer’s block for this fic, and it’s taken me this long to get out of it.
> 
> Major props to Van909 and Heartless Sam for checking in with me and making sure I was okay. I am fine; just…yeah, massive writer’s block.
> 
> Also, a huge thanks to Musical Redhead because her review gave me an idea for a scene that led me out of the writer’s block a bit, and at least gave me a lead to go on.
> 
> All of that being said, some actual action might happen in the next chapter!
> 
> Beta done by LegacySoulReaver. Any remaining mistakes are my own and the result of my impatience at getting this chapter posted.


	14. And It's All In Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April gets an accomplice. Luke loses his temper. Chris and Lorelai finally talk the way they need to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: So, this one came out pretty quickly after the one before it. I think once I got over the stupid writer’s block I’d hit in the last chapter, this one bitch-slapped me and insisted it be written. That being said, there is some filler in here, but also interesting plot-development. I hope it’s good! I’m in pretty foreign territory…more so than I was chapters ago when I wanted them doing so much more physically.
> 
> Additional note…I’m truly sorry if I have spelling inconsistencies. I try to search/find/replace them when I can, but some of them go woefully unnoticed.
> 
> So…hope you enjoy!

XXXXX

 

Chris grunted as Luke pushed him against the wall, his body thumping softly with the impact.  His fingers tightened in Luke’s shirt as he took in the other man’s smell, felt the heat radiating from their skin.  Or maybe it was him; he couldn’t be sure.

Luke tangled his fingers into Chris’s belt loops, tugging him forward as he sighed softly into his mouth.  A thumb strayed under Chris’s t-shirt, skipping over the skin of his hipbone.

Arousal sang in Chris’s blood, pure and sweet, and with much more heat than he could ever remember.  He tangled a hand in the short hair at the nape of Luke’s neck, knocking his baseball cap askew as Luke’s fingers wrapped more deliberately around Chris’s hip.

“Dad?” a voice called out from the darkness of the living room.

Luke jerked back, panting quietly against Chris’s mouth.  His eyes flicked to Chris’s lips and then back to his eyes.  “Yeah, I’m here, April.”  He carefully extricated himself from Chris’s personal space, giving him a look of reluctance.

Chris sighed, willing his half-hard erection to go away, because pajama pants hid very little.  He slumped against the wall, trying to calm his breathing as April and Luke spoke quietly in the living room.  When he thought he finally had a damn grip on himself ( _Christ on a cracker, he was a grown ass man_ ), he pushed away from the wall, straining to listen to whatever April and Luke were saying.

“April, I appreciate it, I do.  But you can’t just show up on a stranger’s doorstep and insist that you know best.  I already told you how complicated this was going to be, and it’s not fair to Chris for you to do what you did.”

A stubborn sigh followed Luke’s gently-spoken words.  “Yeah, well, it’s not fair to you _or_ him for both of you to give so many shits—“

“ _April_ ,” Luke admonished sharply.

“Whatever,” April muttered, her voice still thick with sleep.  “It’s still utterly stupid how much either of you care about the feelings of someone who’s not even _in_ this with you and Chris.”

“Now is really not the time.  We’ll talk more on the way home, okay?  At least apologize to Chris on your way out.  Make sure to call him Mr. Hayden; it’s respectful.”

April came haughtily around the corner, looking slightly sullen but not the least bit remorseful.  “Dad says I have to apologize for being a brat.  I’m sorry I was a brat, but I’m not sorry he had to come over here.”  She sent Luke a deliberate scowl.  “ _Mr._ Hayden.”

“April,” Luke groaned.  “Kids, you know?”

Chris nodded, hoping the flush had faded from his face.  “Yeah.  I do.  So, I’ll call you?”

Luke nodded tightly as he steered April to the door.  “You better.  Besides, you owe me an explanation for the last couple of days.”  He tugged April’s ponytail fondly as they headed for the elevator.  “Come on; let’s get you home and into bed.”

“I still think I was right,” April muttered.  “Did he even tell you what I told him?”

“No, but you don’t go showing up to people’s houses whenever you feel—“ Their voices faded.

Chris half-fell, half-sat on the couch, and dragged his hands over his face.  He was still turned on in a low key sort of way, in as so much that he restlessly shifted on the couch, pushing the heel of his hand against his crotch.  Groaning, Chris dragged himself to his feet and headed for bed.  He doubted he would sleep much unless he took care of his “problem”, but he had a feeling he would end up feeling worse for it.

Instead he grabbed his cell phone for two reasons: one, because the battery was low, and two, because he wanted to shoot off a quick text to Luke to at least try and keep the lines of communication open.  At the very least, he didn’t want him to think they would simply return to silence again.

Admittedly, that time, it had been his fault.

Chris settled into bed, pulling his laptop to him with one hand and tapping his fingers uneasily on his phone.  He was trying to figure out what to say before moving on to bits of work that could wait until tomorrow (but he seriously needed the distraction right now), before finally tapping something out and immersing himself with his laptop.

_I’m sorry.  I missed you._

 

XXXXX

Luke parked the truck, feeling thoroughly talked out and emotionally overwhelmed by the evening.  His lips still burned where Chris had all but attacked him, and he couldn’t say it was unpleasant.  He couldn’t even say where he would have drawn the line in how far it went if April hadn’t been there.

April dozed restlessly in the passenger’s seat.  She had been argumentative about the whole night, but near the end, her tone had taken a decidedly defeated sound before she simply came off as numb.  Her monosyllabic answers had been worrisome, but Luke had been through it enough with Jess to know she was simply too upset to carry on the argument anymore.

He nudged her gently, drawing a sleepy grunt.

April blinked owlishly at him, but obediently got out of the truck with a yawn.

Luke shut his door just as April leaned against the side.

“Huh.  Would you look at that,” she in a bit of a dumbfounded voice.

Luke glanced up.  “Aw, jeez,” he muttered in a strained tone.  “C’mon, April.  Up to bed.”

April gave a passing hug to Jess on her way in.  “Good to see you.”

“You too, kiddo,” Jess replied, awkwardly patting her back.  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Likewise.”  She took the key from Luke.  “And we’re not done talking about this; I’m just too tired to hear you justify your _wrong_ opinion anymore.”  She opened the door and headed upstairs.

Luke sighed and stared at Jess.  “So…you’re here.”

Jess shrugged.  “I had some time to get away, and I figured I hadn’t seen dear old Uncle Luke in a while, so I thought I’d come for a visit.  I’ve been here for over two hours, you know.”

“Well, maybe if you’d _called_ ,” Luke pointed out.  “I had to go get April.”

“Yeah, speaking of,” Jess started curiously.

“Tomorrow,” Luke cut him off promptly.  “I’m exhausted, I still have to be up in a few hours to start prep work, and you remember what the Monday morning rush is like.”

His nephew nodded, seemingly content to wait.  Even Luke could still see the shrewd calculation behind the casual face though.

“Well, can I crash on the couch then?  I didn’t exactly expect a family reunion.”

“Yeah, sure.  Just avoid April in the mornings though; she can be kind of touchy.”

Jess smirked as they headed quietly to the upstairs apartment.  “Runs in the family; we must get it from you.”

Luke only snorted weakly in response, his bed calling him louder than Jess’s mocking.

XXXXX

April eyed Jess over her cup of coffee.  Jess openly stared back at her, but said nothing.  “So…time off?” she finally asked after ten minutes of staring in silence.

Jess shrugged.  “A little bit.  Thought I’d come and say hi to _Uncle_ Luke.”  He sat back, settling his book on the table.  “And your reason for being here?”

April cocked her shoulder casually.  “My mom’s a bitch, my dad listens, and frankly, I think he could use some extra support right now.”

Leaning forward on the table, Jess finally stole a pancake from the plate Luke had left with them twenty minutes ago.  “How’s that now?”

She stared at him incredulously.  “Seriously?  I thought you guys like…talked.  Or whatever it is guys do.”

Jess sipped his coffee.  “No, we talk.  I’ve been writing lately, so I can’t say I’ve exactly been keeping a documentary on his life.”

April leaned forward, clearly ready to dish and perhaps get someone else on the bandwagon to convince Luke and Chris that what was their business was _their business_.  “So, Dad and Lorelai broke up.”

Jess’s eyebrows rose.  “That must have been…something.”  He took another drink of coffee before smothering his pancake in enough syrup to give a person diabetes.

“You have _no_ idea,” April responded, and bluntly delved into the details.

Luke opened the door quickly, having found a minute during the rush to bring up another cup of coffee for Jess and a tomato-spinach omelet that he knew April would love.  What he found was Jess and April leaned close on the table, thick as thieves, quietly talking.

Well, until they noticed him and immediately clammed up.  But April was staring at him defiantly and Jess had a knowing smirk on his face.

Luke dropped the plate and mug on the table.  “ _None_ of your business.”

Jess slowly drew the cup towards him, slapping April’s hand away affectionately when she reached for it.  “It’ll stunt your growth, kiddo.”  He turned the dry humor toward Luke next.  “For all you saying it’s none of our business, you sure seem to care about it being someone else’s.”

Luke glared at him.  “Then leave it up to the business of those involved.”

April tilted her head in thought at Jess.  “Now see, it’s funny he says that, because since Lorelai is involved, that means Rory’s opinion gets respected, but hey; I’m just his _only daughter_ and you’re his _only nephew_ …but gee whiz, it’s just _none of our business_.”

“Knock it off, April,” Luke spat sharply, and ignored the fierce stare she sent him.  He turned on Jess next.  “Quit rubbing off on her.”

“Hey, man…that’s all her.  She either gets it from you or her mother; you pick,” Jess responded neutrally and picked his book again.

Luke growled to himself as he returned to the diner, his mood having definitely taken a turn for the worse.

XXXXX

Chris was certain he had a few more wrinkles on his face due to frowning at his phone so much.

Still, at the end of the day (literally), he knew that Luke was more than likely busy.  April had definitely been a woman on a mission the previous night, and he couldn’t say that he wasn’t surprised by the lack of response to his text.  At the same time, he was still disappointed.

Okay, so maybe it was borderline petulant pouting, but still, blasting Offspring and Simple Plan had a lot to offer (especially when Sum 41 got shot into the mix).  He wasn’t into Rammstein-levels of discontent yet, but it was definitely iffy.

Christ, he hadn’t felt like this since…well, Lorelai.

And he would be a damn liar if he said that didn’t make him feel the slightest bit of panic.  All of it was still unknown territory, and while it was scary as hell, he wasn’t as unsure of his footing anymore.

Chris had just finished doing the dishes from his quick dinner (yeah, that really just meant washing out the coffee mug he had used for the wine he had washed his TV dinner down with) when his phone went off.  He dried his hands quickly before snagging it off the table to read.

 

_I missed you too.  It’s ok._

 

Chris grinned at the phone stupidly before going through his agenda for the next day.  It was nothing he couldn’t push around (besides the morning meeting he absolutely had to attend), and he decided an impromptu trip to Stars’ Hollow (sans Gigi) could be just what he needed.

Decided and feeling better than he had in a while, Chris threw on _Star Trek: The Original Series_ and settled on to his couch to watch.

XXXXX

Jess preferred the diner busy, as it was now during lunch, then when it was slow.  It meant there were enough people that he could largely go unnoticed, and the white noise was an added bonus so he could immerse himself in his book.  It didn’t escape his attention that Taylor had glanced at him no less than five times through the connecting window, and had also spoken to Luke three separate times (ostensibly about lease agreements, but had really boiled down to whether Jess’s presence would hinder Luke’s obligations as Taylor’s landlord for the soda shop).

Per usual, Jess took it with a grain of salt, because honestly, if it got Taylor’s shorts all bunched up, he was still all for it.

April sat at the same table, but she seemed to get that he was reading and not interested in conversation (thank god, someone who understood an open book usually meant _go away_ ), and had started condensing ketchup bottles and refilling salt, pepper, and sugar shakers in between reading and studying.

It was a comfortable silence between the two as the diner roused with the morning rush before the lunch crowd came in.  It was between lunch and dinner that April finally broke their mutually agreed upon silence.

April put aside the book she had been reading.  “So, _cuz_ ,” she said, her voice almost mocking, “What are we going to do about Dad and Chris?”

Jess sighed irritably, but seeing as it was the first time she had interrupted his reading (besides asking if he wanted something to drink when she had gotten up for herself), he was inclined to let it slide.  “Well, I think it’s kinda up to them, isn’t it?”

April blew her hair from her face.  “Yeah, because Dad’s so great at communicating and putting _his_ needs first.”

He hitched a shoulder up and leaned forward.  “Not so much, no.  Maybe he wants to wait until he’s got absolute closure with Lorelai though.  I mean, hell, I don’t know; I’m not in his head.”

But April already seemed to have an idea in her head.  “No, that’s _brilliant_!  I mean, I don’t necessarily think he’s freaked over the whole gay thing that much—“

“Woah,” Jess muttered, holding up a hand.  “Don’t wanna hear about it.”

“Fair enough,” April agreed.  “But it makes sense that he wouldn’t want to start something unless the other thing was done first, and for good.”

Jess sat up a little straighter.  “Don’t get involved with that, _cuz_.  You don’t want any part of that.”

She slouched in her chair stubbornly.  “Then what else can I do?  I’m watching my dad throw himself into an electric chair while one person watches and someone else throws the switch without knowing who they’re doing it to.”

He sighed and leaned forward on the table.  “That’s the shit of life, alright?  Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do.”

April scowled at the table.  “Yeah, well…that freaking sucks.”

Jess nodded.  “It does.”  He sighed, filing thoughts and organizing them until they were completely derailed when the diner door opened with a jingle.  “Tell you what; I’ll help.”

April looked up excitedly.  “Really?  How?”

He waved her off.  “Just…you know what, just keep doing whatever it is you enjoy so much about salt and pepper shakers, okay?”

She rolled her eyes at him, and it was so much like Luke, it hurt a little.  “There’s ratios to consider, and with salt, _especially_ , there’s other things.  Besides, I have to look at the dates on the ketchup and mustard too.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Jess said dismissively, but April had already gone back to her condiments and there was little sarcasm in his voice.  He had already found his next target, and casually sidled up to Chris, who sat at the front counter.  He set his coffee on the hard top, hunching forward slightly.

Chris said nothing, clearly not recognizing him.

“So,” Jess said quietly, “You’re Chris, huh?”

Startled, Chris looked at him, eyeing him in a quick summarizing way that Jess could respect.  “Yeah, you could say that.”

Jess nodded slowly, staring forward at the specials board as he sipped his coffee.  “So, look.  Are you guys going to boink or what?”

Chris choked on his coffee, some of the liquid dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt.  He sputtered gibberish in response.

“You might want to get help for your drinking problem; maybe see a therapist for that stutter.  Uncle Luke hates alcoholism, especially when it starts to cause that speech impediment all drunks get when they’re jonesing,” Jess said in a nonplussed tone.

“And you would be Luke’s nephew, I take it,” Chris ground out, his voice hoarse from gagging on hot coffee.  He started swiping ineffectually at his shirt, opting to simply swipe his chin with his hand to rub the coffee off.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Jess parroted back.

Chris threw the napkin to the counter.  “Well, you look like the kind of guy that’s probably got a flask hidden somewhere.  Care to share?”

“Nah, I carry the flask because it seems cool, but really, I just have purified spring water in it so it’ll look like vodka.  Can’t lose my street cred,” Jess replied without missing a beat.  “So, back to my original question…?” He trailed off with the clear indication that Chris still had to answer it.

“You know, that just isn’t a question I think you should be asking anyone,” Chris finally managed, hoping that his tone was injected with just enough pomposity that it would show Jess that there was clearly no chance of a discussion.

“Well, _you know_ ,” Jess retorted mockingly, “I am awfully protective of my uncle, and I just want to make sure he’s not being swindled off by some fair-of-face rich gentleman who’s going to show a lady how to be kissed, and by someone who ought to know how.”

Chris turned on his stool to respond in kind when he noticed Luke was standing behind Jess, looking more furious than Chris had ever seen him.

Smirking a bit at the counter, Chris rubbed a hand over his chin and mouth.  “Well…golly, Jess…that sounds…well, a little weird, because if you’re thinking one of us is Scarlett O’Hara and the other is Rhett Butler…well, I think Miss Scarlett’s about to have words with you.”  He pointed over Jess’s shoulder.

Jess turned, taking in Luke’s near-comical anger.  “Well, Miss Katie Scarlett; how can I help you?”

Luke wordlessly grabbed the scruff of Jess’s shirt and tugged him to his feet, and promptly grabbed the nape of April’s turtleneck as well.  He nodded quickly and politely to Chris.  “Excuse me for a moment.”  And then he whisked both up the stairs.

Chris watched on in amusement as they left.

Once up stairs, Luke more or less shoved both of them to the couch.  “What the hell is _wrong_ with you two?  I’ve got enough issues without you two—especially _you_ —“ He pointed at Jess accusingly, “Poking your noses and attitudes and opinions where they don’t belong; it’s _not_ helping.”

Jess shrugged.  “Wasn’t trying to help.”

April slapped him on the shoulder.  “You said you were going to help!”

“I didn’t say what I was going to help,” Jess responded tritely, bumping his shoulder to hers in a mime of pushing her away.

“But you _said_ —“ April started sharply.

“No!” Luke roared, garnering a disinterested stare from Jess and a tight frown from April.  “You don’t _get_ to decide what’s going on with this.  You want the truth?  _Fine_ , yes, we _like-like_ each other.  Yes, we’re trying to work through it.  And, finally, _yes_ , I’m doing everything I can.  But life’s a bitch sometimes, and both of you, of _all_ people, should know that.  That being said, _no_ , your interventions are _not_ appreciated or wanted, so just butt the hell out!  Am I understood?”  He was breathing hard and red in the face by the time he was done, sweat popping out on his upper lip.

Jess looked at him calculatingly before he leaned to April as an aside.  “That vein in his forehead still pops out when he’s _really_ pissed.”

April nodded in agreement, because Luke looked honest-to-god _furious_ , and while she wasn’t sure Jess’s observation would help, she was certain it might be funny in a way.  “It did that the first time I went out with this guy, Freddie.  Man, did Dad hate _him_.”

Luke couldn’t swear that he remembered whatever came out of his mouth next, but what he did recall was the way Jess _finally_ looked a little chagrined and April’s face had gone completely white.  He also remembered (a little) that both swore they would stop interfering.

Well, they would stop doing whatever it was to make Luke look like the love-child of a debate between Michael Moore and Anne Coulter with Michelle Bachmann mediating.

As they both shuffled back out of the apartment, Luke was sure he heard one of them mutter something about whether or not Trump needed a new defense secretary.

XXXXX

Later that afternoon, while Chris had stepped out to walk around town, Luke watched April secure her rucksack she had been living out of since the blow-up between her and Anna as she prepared to go back to her mother’s.

“Now, you’re sure this is what you want?” Luke asked solemnly.

April nodded, fiddling with her helmet.  “Yes.  I was talking to Jess a little bit, and I really don’t want this hanging over my college experience for the next whole four years or more.”  She shifted her gaze to him, a hint of stubbornness still filtering through her body language.  “I mean, surely you must know what it’s like when you’re getting ready to do something amazing and exciting, but then you’ve got a storm cloud over your head that you _know_ you can take care of, and if you do, that experience will be ten times better.”  She tightened the chin strap on her helmet.  “So yeah, I definitely want to at least try to talk to her.  She’s my mom.”

Luke sighed, seeing almost exactly what she was doing.  “Don’t let Jess get in your head, kiddo.  He’s pretty good at it.”

April shrugged as she hugged her father.  “He’s a pretty smart guy.  His novel’s pretty good too.”  She looked at Luke again.  “But seriously, Dad…you might want to talk to Chris.”

Luke nodded and rapped a knuckle on her helmet.  “Stay in touch.  Let me know how it goes down.”

“I will, Dad.  It’ll be fine, I know it,” April said confidently and hugged him once more for good measure.  “And thank you for letting me crash here for a while.  I promise I’ll visit at least one more time before I leave for MIT.”

“Sounds good,” Luke replied.  “Love you, kid.”

She smiled at him.  “Love you too, Dad.”  She hopped on her bike and sped off.

XXXXX

Chris sat at the gazebo, fiddling with his cell phone and checking on e-mails and various texts from group conversations at work.  He weighed in when he had to, sat back and watched when he wasn’t needed.  The breeze felt sharp and cool on his face, the remnants of the last snow still littering the grass here and there.  He looked out over at the grassy area where Stars Hollow usually set up the light-up Christmas village.  There were still patches of grass that looked under-grown from where it had sat.

And very abruptly, all he could think about was how close he and Luke had been that night, fighting and scuffling like teenage boys (well, teenage boys who were hitting like grown men, and _man_ , Luke had a hell of a punch).  Of course, they had been close recently too, but it had been much more pleasant.

His cheeks flushed, and he grinned privately to himself as he got to his feet.  The sun was getting a little low in the sky, and he wanted to swing by Luke’s again before heading back to Boston.

Chris was reasonably sure that Jess being in town meant Luke would probably be distracted.  It did seem like something had finally settled with April though, who hadn’t been as jittery as he had last seen her.  He rubbed his hands together before slipping his gloves on and beginning to step off the gazebo.

“What; you stole my fiancé and now you want my town?  I didn’t realize my life was suddenly “Single, White, Ex-Fiance and father of my child meets my new fiancé and decides to screw him”.”

Chris groaned inwardly.  He had somehow idealistically thought that it would be hard to run into Lorelai during the day.  He turned and sure enough, Lorelai stood there, arms crossed in a defensive posture he was all too familiar with.

“No, I was in town to see Luke, but I don’t want your life.  Is it a crime to visit?”  Chris walked towards her, making sure he wasn’t in arm’s reach of her fist.

“No, it’s never a crime to visit,” Lorelai bit out.  “Everything else sure as hell is.”

“I wasn’t exactly here to see you, and I wasn’t trying to avoid you either,” Chris pointed out.  “You ambushed me.”

Lorelai practically jerked in place.  “Are you seriously mad because _I_ ambushed _you_?  In _what universe_ do you _get_ to be mad at me right now?”

“I never said I was mad at you!  Jesus, Lore; I just said you ambushed me and that _you_ were ready for a fight!” Chris snapped warily.  “You can be whatever you want to be!”

Lorelai nodded furiously at him.  “Sure, sure, I can,” she muttered, glaring at the ground before staring harshly at Chris.  “I can be everything but Luke’s wife.”

Chris sighed, staring at her numbly.  “Have you even talked to him?  I expected you and even Rory to freeze me out, but he would have said something if you or Rory had talked to him.  Did it occur to you that maybe he wants an end to whatever this is so that you can both move on and be happy?”

“I don’t even know what to say to him,” Lorelai admitted, even if there was still anger lacing her tone.  “You?  It’s easy to hate you.”

“Glad to be of service,” Chris grumbled.  “Look, I was just going to see him for a few and then head back home.  I’m not trying to tell you what to do, because Rory is living proof of what happens when someone tries to do that.”

Lorelai hitched her shoulders in agreement.

“But what I am saying is you can hate me all you want to, but I think you and Luke owe it to each other to finish it out,” Chris finished, hoping he was being sensitive about it.

He figured it must have come out right because Lorelai didn’t immediately start up again.  She was staring at the ground in thought, her face still screwed up in misery.

“You’re still not getting my blessing,” Lorelai finally said, sounding tired and like she was trying for a joke, but couldn’t quite manage it.  “It’s too weird.  Now I’m wondering when Logan and Jess are going to hit each other before they screw.  I swear, all of this started with metrosexuality.”  She stared at him witheringly.  “You and that peach-salmon atrocity you called a shirt.”

Chris chuckled softly.  “Jess is here too, if you’d like to point him in the right direction.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Lorelai groaned.  “Jess is here?”

“Yeah, had the pleasure of talking to him a bit,” Chris replied, thinking back to the morning.  “He’s…interesting.”

“He broke your little girl’s heart; he’s downright charming,” Lorelai retorted sarcastically before she sighed again, kicking at the grass.  “I haven’t forgiven you yet.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Lorelai sighed.  “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

Chris watched her walk away, wondering how long she would wait before calling Rory.  Still, he had managed to get a few things out, and it looked like the prediction he had made long ago was possibly going to come true.

Lorelai would just find it too bizarre to not enjoy watching it play out.

He definitely felt like something had loosened in his chest, even as Lorelai turned the corner.  He ambled toward the diner, where Jess and April were nowhere to be found, and Luke was wiping down a table.

Luke looked up when he came in, shooting a crooked smile his way.

Chris grinned back, warmth settling in his chest.  It seemed as if things were finally getting better.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: So, yeah. I really wanted to wrap up at least a little bit of things with Lorelai, Luke, and Chris. I really feel like it might be a stumbling block for Chris and Luke to move forward, and I’m sorry if it seems…abrupt or sudden.
> 
> But hey, the show uses Jess all the time to blatantly point things out, right?
> 
> Moving forward though, I’m low-key glad I’m done writing April and Gigi. They’re freaking exhausting to keep up with at times, as are their interactions with the adults involved. At the same time, I wouldn’t mind Gigi having a teenager moment where she lays everything out for Lorelai and Rory.
> 
> So, hopefully, the next chapter will have some more…physical interaction. I definitely know that Chapter 16 will!


	15. Yeah, But This Is Happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Luke get close. Taylor weighs in (as heavily as one might expect). Luke and Lorelai chat, and it ends about as well as one thinks it would. Luke and Chris talk and get close.
> 
> Francine gets closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Well, guess I’m back on fire again. The good news is I’ve set things up a certain way and I knew from the beginning of this story where I wanted the next chapter to go. It also kind of means I might be kind of nitpicky and perfectionist over the next chapter, so it may take a bit longer than the last few I’ve posted.
> 
> Thank you so much to anyone who’s still sticking by this one, still reading, still enjoying, still checking for updates on a regular basis. I’d like to be one of those authors who says “Oh, totes not in it for the reviews” but I’m human too XD They help move things along from time to time.
> 
> Also, it’s occurred to me that I teased about a potential Rory/Paris pairing (which I really kind of dig). I’m still weighing my options on it, but for now, I’m going to stick with focusing on the one pairing. As always, I make the disclaimer that my brain is a fickle thing and liable to change based on what episode of Gilmore Girls I’m watching, so…that.
> 
>  
> 
> TL;DR: Thanks everyone for sticking with this! The next chapter might take a bit longer to come out because I’ve set it up a certain way and I want specific things to happen. Much love to my beta, LegacySoulReaver; seriously, you help this story way more than you know. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Hope you enjoy!

“So, how long are you sticking around?” Luke asked casually, glancing back in the kitchen where Lane and Cesar were embroiled in hushed whispers.

Chris shrugged, hands resting in the pockets of his overcoat.  “I have a bit.”  He wondered if he was obligated to give him the heads-up that Lorelai would be by later, but the heat behind Luke’s eyes were making him think twice about bringing it to his attention all together.

Luke glanced around the diner quickly before jerking his head toward the stairs.  He heard Chris ambling along behind him, and when he turned his head, he saw an almost shy, anticipatory smile on Chris’s face.  He grinned to himself, shoving aside the feeling of goofiness it gave him.

And, to his credit, Luke waited until they were almost at the top of the stairs to wrap a hand around Chris’s neck and pull him in for a deliberate, solid kiss.

Chris made a pleasant, surprised grunt against his lips while Luke twined his fingers into Chris’s belt loop in response as he leaned against the wall of the stairwell, tugging Chris closer.  Luke groaned as Chris’s hands crept around his waist, one hand rucking up the flannel shirt and undershirt until it hit warm skin.  The other hand trailed up his ribs (which holy _hell_ , how did he not know that was an amazing feeling until _now_ ) before settling on the space between his shoulder blades.

Luke felt as Chris shifted, pushing him more solidly into the wall, the railing digging into the small of his back.  He nearly protested when Chris pulled away, but found it stuck in his throat when Chris went for his neck.  Luke was pretty sure he muttered something in surprise, because Chris chuckled in amusement against his skin, but he had absolutely no clue what it might have been.  He tightened his fingers in the material of Chris’s coat before shoving a hand under it near his ribs.

“Luke!  Taylor’s here to see you!” Cesar’s voice floated up the stairs.

Luke jarred away in surprise, glancing down to make sure no one was actually peering up at them.  He groaned against Chris’s hair before shrugging.  “If I don’t take care of this now…”

Chris nodded, looking flushed and a little bright-eyed.  “I get it.  I’ve talked to the man before.  Good luck; I’ll slip out the back while you’ve got him distracted.”

Luke sighed and brushed a quick kiss to Chris’s mouth again.  “It’s a small town and Lorelai is very beloved around here; it’s gonna get out eventually.”

Chris gave him a reluctant smirk.  “God knows they like painting me the villain.  Let me know what color ribbon I get.”

“She told you about that?” Luke grumbled.

“Lucas!  I’m _waiting_!” Taylor’s impatient yell interrupted them again.

“Can it, Taylor; I’ll be down in a minute!” Luke yelled back down before turning back to Chris.  “That’s if you get a ribbon.  You don’t want one; trust me.”

Chris chuckled softly.  “On Wednesdays, they wear pink?”

Luke waved him off before bounding down the stairs to see what Taylor could possibly want.

Taylor stood near the counter, arms crossed and tapping his foot.  He saw Luke and dropped his arms in exasperation.  “Now, Luke, it’s so rude to leave a fellow waiting for so long!  I know I mentioned to Kirk to let you know I was coming.”

Luke went behind the counter, grabbing an order pad as he did so, hoping that he didn’t look like he’d just been making out with someone in a stairwell.  His lips felt just a bit swollen though, and he knew face was still slightly reddish.

“Well, Kirk didn’t say anything at all, so maybe you should go find him and give him whatever lecture you’ve got saved up for me.”

“Luke, this is just a simple matter of town business.”

Luke scowled at him.  “Since when I have ever cared about town business?  I keep mine up; everyone else keeps theirs, it’s all square.  Can you just tell me what you want and get out of here?”

Taylor looked around the diner, which was starting to fill for dinner.  “I’d rather we spoke in private, if it’s all the same to you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Luke went to take an order and then handed it back to Cesar.  “Then schedule an appointment if it’s so important.  As you can see, it’s about to be dinner, and then I really _won’t_ have the time to talk to you, especially seeing as it’s something I don’t _want_ to make time for in the first place.”

Taylor’s eyes flicked behind Luke briefly and then back to him.  “So, you would prefer to talk about your latest romantic escapade in the middle of your dinner rush?”

Luke legitimately couldn’t help it; he dropped both the pen and paper and his mild irritation turned immediately to rage.  “ _Excuse me_?” he ground out.

“Well, it’s hardly escaped _anyone’s_ attention that you and Lorelai have, once again, decided to terminate your relationship.  Though I must say, no one is really surprised.”  Taylor leaned forward, completely oblivious of the way Luke was coiled and hunched, as if he were barely holding himself from lunging forward to possibly throttle the older man.  “And there’s been a frequent, familiar visitor to Star’s Hollow lately, and you know how we _adore_ return-visitors normally, but there’s been some talk that this particular visitor isn’t necessarily a thrill to see once again, you understand.”

“Taylor,” Luke started, his voice tight and barely controlled.  “You’re treading on thin ice here.  This is _nobody’s_ business but mine.”

“Now, Lucas, we’ve discussed this before.  And seeing as you were so irate when we brought it up for discussion at the town meeting so the town could weigh in, I rather imagined you would prefer I come straight to you.”  He looked behind Luke’s head again.

“What the hell are you looking at?!” Luke shouted.

“No need to bellow at me; I saw your new _liaison romantique_ sneaking out the back door.  I was simply wondering if he wanted to weigh in as well!” Taylor responded defensively in a loud voice directed to the back entrance of the diner.  “I swear, I try to find a suitable compromise that won’t have you looking as if you’re going to commit a felony, and you find issue with that as well!”

“Taylor?” Luke asked, still barely holding it together.  “ _Get the hell out_!” he roared.

Taylor waved at him.  “Honestly, you try to strike a happy medium and it always blows up in one’s face.  It was a simple _question_ , and with the Pride Parade coming up—”  His voice faded as he exited the diner.

Luke stared at the counter and then his right hand, clenching the healed bones there in lieu of punching it again.  His phone buzzed in his shirt pocket as the door to the diner swung open again, proving once again to him that the world just thought his life was effing _hilarious_.

Lorelai seemed to see immediately that Luke was beyond incensed.  “Come on, Luke; walk it off, walk it off,” she said quietly, glancing at the curious diners.  She grabbed the crook of his elbow.  “Let’s get some air.”  She led him out of the diner, snatching the tiny rainbow flag Kirk was trying to plant on the counter, whapping him quickly with it before exiting with Luke.

Luke looked on the verge of a panic attack by the time they got to the pond, shoes clacking on the wooden causeway in the awkward silence.

“Are you okay?” Lorelai asked.  “I didn’t hear everything, but I saw Chris leaving.”

Luke glared at her.  “Does _no one_ have _anything_ better to do with their time but eyeball my diner for who’s coming and going and whether it’s got _anything_ to do with me?”

“Woah, calm down; I’m not the one you’re mad at,” Lorelai retorted, hands out defensively.  “Well, you might be, but that’s over something completely different, and we needed to talk anyway, so if you could let Bruce back out to play?”

“You’ll have to pardon me if I don’t feel like _talking_ right now,” Luke snapped.  “And no, I’m not mad at you, but you being in my general vicinity means you’re at risk for getting it taken _out_ on you, so maybe think about that?”

She sighed.  “Like you’ve never been mad and yelled at me before for something that wasn’t my fault.”

Luke rubbed his hands over his face, shivering briefly in the chilly air.  “Look, I get why it might be your business, or Rory’s, or whoever is directly involved, say…you know, _me_ , but _not_ the whole goddamn town!”

“It’s a small town, Luke.  There’s not much anyone can do about that.  And you know Taylor, he gets his panties bunched up over a fly landing on his window without advanced notice.  I mean, come _on_ , the guy probably legitimately doesn’t understand the principal point of “Stepford Wives” and thinks “Pleasantville” had a terrible ending.”

Luke stared out at the rippling water, a couple of swans off in the distance.  His anger was slowly bleeding away, even if the underlying rage still simmered deep in his gut.  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he muttered quietly.

Lorelai shrugged beside of him.  “Nothing ever is, you know?  You think it’ll be a certain way, and then you try to imagine every single scenario that could possibly happen.  You know, if you turn to page 23, are you going to keep going or are you going to end up on that endless slide of insanity?”  She shook her head.  “That seriously gave me nightmares until I was fourteen and I never read another one of those.”

“What are you talking about?” Luke asked with sincere bewilderment.

“Choose Your Own Adventure, duh,” Lorelai replied.  “I had to steal my books from Sally Tippen, seeing as my first book was “How To Be A Socialite”.”

“You know, it’s like I _know_ you’re saying things that are supposed to refer to something, but I never know what you’re talking about.  It’s like watching a game show you can’t figure out how to play.”

“Well, stay away from Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune and—“

“I’m _not_ an idiot; I know those,” Luke muttered, slouching down to sit on the wooden bridge.  His boots scraped the top of the water.

Lorelai sat beside of him.  “So, back to the serious talk then, Brinkley; Rather’s waiting.”

“Okay, that I got,” Luke groaned and leaned back on his hands.  “I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

She nodded.  “I know.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“I know that, too.”

“Then what am I talking for?” Luke asked in frustration.

She leaned into his shoulder affectionately, with few other feelings beyond it.  “Because we needed to find an end for it.  Because we were both tired of feeling like there was still something there to fight for.  And lastly, because we can’t make it happen just because we think it’s supposed to because we’ve been fighting for it for so long.”

Luke nodded slowly, still staring at the water.  “So that’s it.  It’s…over.”

Lorelai leaned back on her own hands as well.  “Yeah.  I think it is.”  She looked over at him.  “So…you and Chris are really doing it?”

“We’re not _doing it_ , jeez,” Luke mumbled, his cheeks flushing.

“No,” she laughed at him.  “I mean…getting together like _that_.”  It was now her staring out at the water.  “I gotta say, I imagined a lot of worst-case scenarios; that one did _not_ cross my mind.”

“Not like it crossed mine either.”

“Well,” Lorelai said, feeling like the world was finally off her shoulders.  It was still sad, but it felt good to know she didn’t have to _fight_ anymore.  “Do you at least feel like you’re not going to kill someone or spontaneously combust?”

“Not really,” Luke replied honestly.  “Taylor wanted to ask about my newest relationship and about me and you and what it would mean for the town since apparently, it pissed me off pretty badly when it was a town meeting bullet point.”  He gestured wildly as he got back to his feet.  “And then Taylor wanted to talk about how Chris was a frequent but unwelcome return visitor or some other bullshit, and I swear to god, I nearly laid him out.”

Lorelai got up as well.  “I almost wouldn’t blame you.”  She hitched her shoulder in a half-shrug.  “Still, I feel obligated to do this, given the past couple of months.”

Before Luke could respond, he was sputtering cold pond water and trying to fish his baseball cap back toward him with Lorelai crouched at the edge of the causeway.  “I…” Luke started and sighed as he pulled himself out of the water.  “So, I may have deserved that.”

“Not as much as you deserve at least two more and Chris should get five,” Lorelai retorted, unable to keep all of the bitterness from her voice.

“Fair enough,” Luke agreed.  “If you want, I’ll give him a Charlie horse the next time I see him.”

“I don’t want to hear about _anything_ you’re giving him—or vice versa, ew, just _no_.”  She smiled weakly at him.  “Still, it’ll be fun to watch.”

Luke sighed as he shivered in the cold and they walked back to the diner.  Once upstairs and pulling off the thick, wet clothing, he swore in frustration as he realized his phone had completely died and was now utterly soaked.

XXXXX

Chris spent an inordinate amount of time sitting in his car once he had arrived back in Boston.  He wouldn’t want to burden Luke with much, especially now that things had gotten good, but there was the small matter of the fact that he hadn’t actually left the diner until after Taylor had.  He knew the people of Star’s Hollow weren’t exactly… _crazy_ about him; Lorelai had, after all, been a staple of their town for years, Luke for even longer.  It was their own favorite love story, and Chris had put forth no small effort of trying to break it up.

Not that he had meant to break up _this_ way.

He just didn’t know that he was necessarily _frowned_ upon that much.  Taylor had made him sound like a damn pariah.  It also hadn’t escaped his attention that Lorelai had definitely seen him on his way out of town.

And Jesus Christ, this was such small-town shit, but then again, Luke had to _live_ there, and Luke had yet to respond or call or text.

Chris scrubbed a hand over his eyes.  He _hated_ being this into it that he was worried about every little thing that happened, anxious over every unanswered text, concerned that Luke’s town just simply wouldn’t _accept_ him because hey, Lorelai hadn’t, why should they?

About half an hour passed before he finally dragged himself from the car and up to his apartment.  There were no messages on his machine, and his phone had given nothing more than a couple of work e-mails that weren’t important.

After stripping off various clothing between the door and his living room, Chris ended up on the couch in a t-shirt and boxer-briefs, playing Wii tennis.  His heart wasn’t really in it, and he found himself checking his phone more than anything else.

Nothing was on it.

He scowled at his phone before hooking it up to the charger cord in his room and deciding bed would be best.  He really wanted to think that what Taylor had said wouldn’t have gotten to Luke, but now it was getting to him too.

Chris thumped his head on his pillow, struggling to swear to himself that he wouldn’t let anyone get into his head.  He _wanted_ this, even if the further aspects of sex as a gay man were freaking him out in a way he didn’t want to approach yet.

Rubbing a hand against his lips, Chris wondered if it had felt as good to Luke to simply kiss and touch in privacy without having any other hang-ups.  He really hoped it had, because it had been a long time since he had been able to do it himself.

Chris draped an arm across his forehead, willing sleep to come when it clearly wouldn’t be.  He had barely drifted off in a restless doze around midnight when the familiar sound of his phone vibrating against his nightstand pulled him out of it.

Clumsily, he snatched first the cordless landline until he realized it wasn’t his cell phone and then grabbed the right one.  “Hello?” he mumbled into the phone.

“Look, I’m not good at this kind of stuff, but I did get whatever it was you sent me, but I couldn’t read it because Lorelai pushed me into a lake, and now I’m waiting for my phone to dry out in a bowl of rice because she said it would help, but I wanted you to know that I don’t give a shit about what the stupid _town_ has to say, because…well, really, I _never_ have, and fuck ‘em all anyway; they’re still hungry, aren’t they?”

Chris flopped onto his back.  “So long as your business doesn’t suffer, right?”

“I talked to Lorelai.”

At that, he sat up, running a hand over his face and wondering if he really needed sleep that badly after all.  “Yeah, but you said she pushed you into a lake.”

“Well, it’s more of a pond, really.  And man, that shit is _cold_ this time of year.  But yeah, we talked.”

“So…is everything okay?”

“Yeah…I think.”  Luke sighed over the phone.  “As good as it’s going to be right now.”

“Yeah, she talked to me too…well, she yelled at first, but I took it as a good sign.  I figure if she weren’t yelling or still freezing either one of us out, then she still wasn’t exactly in the mood to look either one of us in the eye unless her fist hit it first.”

“Yeah, at least you didn’t get shoved in a lake.”

“I thought it was more of a pond.”

Luke snorted through the phone.  “Still.”  There was a brief silence with nothing more than the sound of their breathing.  “So, what was it you sent me?”

Chris sighed reluctantly.  “Well…”

“Uh-oh.”

“No, it’s not that,” Chris replied quickly.  “It’s just…does the town really hate me that much?  God, I feel like a leper.”

“How much did you hear?” Luke asked carefully.

“Pretty much everything up until you were ready to spontaneously combust.”

“You’re not really narrowing down a time frame.”

Chris nodded.  “True.  Well, then I left right before Lore came in to talk to you.”

“Hey, by the way, did you know she was coming to see me?” Luke asked, his voice sounding just shy of irritated.

“I didn’t _not_ know.  I suggested she talk with you.”  Chris shifted up on the bed a little, despite knowing he needed sleep.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” He sounded petulant.

“Well, when I came back in, we were a little busy, you know.”  Chris grinned in the darkness of his room.  “You know, we could always try the whole going out on an actual date thing.”

“Do guys even do that?” Luke sounded genuinely confused.  “I mean, I didn’t exactly have a welcome-wagon at my doorstep after I thought this might even remotely be a good idea that came with an instruction manual for how to be a fruit.”

Chris grimaced.  “Yeah, well, the welcome fairy didn’t visit me either, and unfortunately, I didn’t get one as well.  You like movies?”

Luke sighed.  “Not particularly.  Lorelai can be kind of a movie geek, and once you’ve been forced to sit through every obscure movie known to man made from the thirties all the way up to the nineties, and even then, managed to get ones in that were in French, Italian, and German, you get a little tired of movies.”

“You don’t seem like a concert guy either.”

“Oh, god, no.  Too many sweaty people jamming up against each other to music you can barely hear?”

“It can be fun.  The Warped Tour’s not so bad if you don’t mind being one of the oldest people there.”

“Yeah, I’m out on that one.”

“You ever gone rock climbing?”

“Have you _met_ me?”

XXXXX

Rory closed her laptop after saving what she was working on.  “So…you’re okay with this.”

Lorelai looked in her fridge, wondering if she closed the door and re-opened it, if something would be there that wasn’t there before.  “I wouldn’t say okay; I’d say I’m tired of being angry and sad and depressed and going from Judy Garland to Marilyn Monroe to Joan Crawford on an hourly basis.”

“But you talked to both of them?  Did they even have any excuses or reasons?  You’re just gonna give up on you and Luke?”

“Hey,” Lorelai said snappishly.  “You don’t get to say whether my decision is okay or not.  My decision was made based on the fact I’m tired of being a freaking mess day in and day out.  I’m tired of going to work just because it means I won’t be at home, trying to sleep since sleep means unconscious, and unconscious means I don’t have to think about this anymore.”

Rory sighed apologetically.  “I’m not trying to tell you whether it’s okay or not.  I just want to make sure it’s what _you_ want.”

“It’s not about whether it’s what I want or not, kiddo.  It’s about what I need to do; I need this to be done.  I need to move on with my life and finally get back to getting coffee at Luke’s and asking him how Jake Gyllenhaal is holding up.”

“Okay,” Rory finally agreed placidly.  “If this is what will make you happy, I will stand by it.”  She tapped her pencil on the closed laptop.  “But I can’t promise I won’t be mad at Dad _or_ Luke.  They deserve it because it’s great that you’re trying to do what you need to do, but I still think what they did was stupid and _wrong_ , and—“

“Hey, kid,” Lorelai cut her off.  “As far as I can tell, I _never_ brought you up to think there was anything wrong with…you know, _that_.”

“Oh, jeez, Mom,” Rory muttered.  “I don’t _care_ that they’re _guys_ ; I care that both of them _hurt_ you.  Deeply.  Unforgivably, if you ask me.  Like I’m ready to just be Katy Perry and let them both represent Taylor Swift, because we _all know_ Taylor was in the wrong.”

Lorelai chuckled bitterly, pulling her glasses off and pushing away the inn documents she had been looking through.  “Hon, forgiveness is a funny thing; I’m not going to pretend to understand it or even be able to explain why I need to do it, but what I am telling you is that you don’t need to go Bad Blood on them.”

“That was Tay-Tay,” Rory muttered.

“Whatever.  Look, the point of what I’m saying is that I’m doing what I _have_ to do so I can be okay.  I’ve had to do it with Luke before, with your father before…I’m simply…doing it again.  Chris is your _father_ , kid, and one day, you’re going to have a hankering for Luke’s pancakes.  At that point in time, you can decide for yourself whether this whole forgiveness kick is for you.”

“Well…” Rory trailed.  “I still think Dad should have known better.  How did it even _happen_?”

Lorelai leaned back in her chair, draping her free arm over her hips.  “I have a quote for you, and I expect you to be suitably impressed.”

Rory hunched forward on her desk.  “If it’s Shakespeare and about the stars and questions…”

Lorelai pouted.  “You’re no fun.”  She sat up again, tipping her glasses forward.  “But you get what I’m trying to say?”

Rory banged her wrist on the side of the table, her fist still clenched in restraint.  “I _know_ what you’re trying to say.”  She straightened in her chair, crossing an arm over her chest.  “I just don’t _agree_ with it.”

Lorelai nodded with a sigh.  “Just…don’t freeze them out forever, okay?  They both care about you, probably within relative levels.  Things are going to be okay, kiddo.”

“I’m sure they will,” Rory replied before opening her laptop.  “They’re just…not for me yet, okay?”

Lorelai shrugged.  “I’ll give you that.  But I promise you, I’m fine.  I’ve got the inn, your grandmother is having _lunch_ with me tomorrow where _you_ won’t be there…”

“Hey, deadline here.”

“Alright.  I hear you typing even though your agreement with me still stands that you won’t type while we talk.”

Rory stopped writing with remorse.  “I know…but I really do have a deadline.  We’ll talk later?  I can come over for the weekend in…”  She flipped open her planner and signed dejectedly.  “In about three weeks.”

“I’ll hold you to it.  Bye.”

“Bye, Mom.”

XXXXX

Francine put her martini glass down carefully, staring at the table more than anything else.  “You say this is for sure.”

“Well, you know that I normally would say nothing, but it’s absolutely _scandalous_ , what’s going on with your son.  It’s the talk of near every board and club.  I would hate for you to have to deal with _this_ in addition to the mother of your grandchild failing to visit as often as she should, never mind that Emily doesn’t visit as often as _she_ should,” Nora replied, her accent having deepened with the unending drink in front of her.

Nora had to give it to Francine Hayden; her maid was invisible yet efficient at keeping drinks filled.

Francine reared back in her chair gently, projecting the very air of fragility.  “I would imagine Emily has her hands full with dealing with Lorelai; I’ll put in a call to her.  This can’t stand; it destroys every memory and hope that Straub had for our son.”  She tapped her fingers delicately on the floral-carvings of the edge of the table in the drawing room.  “Straub hoped to the last that Christopher would live up to the Hayden name.”

Nora declined to mention the fact that Francine had been noticeably absent from recent meetings and gatherings since Straub’s death.  “Well, I highly doubt that Straub would stand for this… _dabbling_ Christopher is up to.  Lord knows how it’s become so acceptable for young men and women to simply decide that this day or another is a good enough one to stray.”

Francine sipped from her drink, even as a simple glance to the maid had the young woman quietly refilling their drinks without so much as making a peep.  “It will be taken care of.  I will not have my son besmirching his father’s memory in this obscene fashion.”  She stood swiftly, making Nora’s eyes cross a bit since Francine’s maid poured generously.  “I have arrangements to make, Nora.  You understand, of course.”

Nora nodded with a glassy-eyed stare.  “Of course, Francine.  And, understand, I wouldn’t have brought this up if I hadn’t been hearing things.”

Francine waved her off.  “Have a lovely afternoon, Nora.  Straub may be gone, but his wishes are not.  I will speak to Christopher.”

Nora went to her car, just a bit more sloshed than she would have liked.  “Home, Jeeves!” she called out in a tipsy voice.

Her driver nodded in silence.

XXXXX

“You know I’m just a _little_ weirded out, doing this with another _guy_.”

“We can either play Halo, Call of Duty, or listen to the best of the best of my music collection.”

Luke gave a put-upon sigh, but settled deeper under Chris’s arm and into his rib cage, holding the controller in his hand.  “You’re a sadist, you know that?”

Chris pulled his elbow closer to Luke’s neck as he hitched his foot up onto the coffee table.  “A sadist would only be happy from _this_.”  He sniped Luke’s soldier on screen.

Luke groaned.  “Come on, at least give me a learning curve.”

“You always wear that baseball cap?” Chris asked, looking at it and remembering that there was a head full of light-brown, wavy hair beneath it.

“Why, it bothering you?” Luke asked, shifting enough that Chris knew there was an exacting stare being pointed in his direction.

Chris impulsively tipped the cap off of Luke’s head and dropped a kiss at the man’s hair before he could stop himself.  “No, not at all.”

Luke sighed against him again.  “Could you _be_ a bigger ass right now?”

Chuckling, Chris shifted so that Luke was sitting comfortably against him, his arm around Luke’s neck.  “I could.”  He threw a grenade at Luke’s character in the game.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Luke muttered emphatically.

“Well, you won’t learn unless we do this the hard way.”

Luke nodded slowly, his video-game character re-spawning and creeping around walls.  “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

Chris nodded, the motion bringing Luke’s hair against his skin.  “Definitely true.”

Without warning, Luke’s character came around the corner and stabbed Chris’s on-screen, followed by a gunshot through the head.

“So we do it the hard way,” Chris grumbled, sitting up a bit to focus on the game.

Luke adjusted, curling further beneath Chris’s arm and into his side, ostensibly to simply get more comfortable.  “Yeah, well…it’s always worth doing it the hard way.  You do it the hard way, it means more when you get it.”  He moved uneasily, as if getting more comfortable even though he was fine.  “Nothing worth having ever came easy.”

Chris snorted softly, thinking once again of his grandfather.  “Have you _met_ me?”

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: The reason I didn’t end with Chris’s mother and a “helpful friend” as the end of this chapter is because I wanted to “Gilmore” this right. I wanted the machinations going on behind the scenes, but I wanted to end with the fact that Chris seemed happy, even despite the things that are going on elsewhere. I wanted Luke to be okay too, in that he’s unhappy the town is that involved with his life, but knowing he can soldier through it as he has so many times.
> 
> Additionally, I wanted to make sure that Chris’s mother’s informant was not Emily. I didn’t want to overuse the old trope that Emily puts her foot in where it’s not wanted. Like, I went to Google and made sure I found a “friend” of Emily to make that conversation happen. While I feel like Francine will always be a weak-willed character, I feel she would flex her “societal” muscles when need be, especially considering that Straub and Chris’s grandfather (the leaders of the family, so to speak) are gone, and Chris should be taking up in their image somehow. More reasons for her involvement in the next chapter though.
> 
> At the end of the day, what will this mean for our boys?
> 
> Yeah, even I don’t know. Making notes now for the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed this one!
> 
> As always, beta’d by LegacySoulReaver; any remaining mistakes are my own.


	16. Just Give Me A Reason (Redux)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris receives an invitation. Lorelai convinces Rory to take one for the team. Jess finds closure. Francine, Chris, and Rory have a dinner, and it goes about as well as one might expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Okay, so this chapter ended up being some filler too. I seriously didn’t mean for it to be, and there is like…zero Luke/Chris interaction in this particular chapter, but there’s a lot of big plot development, I’ll say that.
> 
> My beta, LegacySoulReaver, has officially told me to kick my ass in gear and stop avoiding the physical interactions. I pointed out that this chapter had a much different plan as far as the sexual aspects go than what actually came out. Hopefully, that’s going be in the next chapter; I really didn’t expect this one to go the way it did.
> 
> In any case, I hope you all enjoy. Much thanks to LSR, reviewers, commenters, followers, likers, etc. I really appreciate it, and it’s because of you wonderful peoples that this story has been plugging along as well as it has. Thank you so much!
> 
> Any remaining mistakes are my own.

XXXXX

 

Jess glanced up surreptitiously as Luke darted in and out of the upstairs apartment, the latter of the two nodding in his general direction.  In one instance, Luke did stay briefly for ten minutes, wolfing down an impressive amount of vegetables, fruit, juice, and a rather large turkey sandwich on whole-grain bread.

Shaking his head, Jess relocated from the kitchen table to the spare bed, crossing his legs at the ankle as he jotted notes down in a composition book.  He was hesitant to say much of anything to Luke concerning his newest relationship, especially since Luke seemed to be in an okay mood today, but it was still niggling at him.  April had been nothing if not blunt.

And even if it meant spending his week off being supportive of his uncle’s new relationship, he was damn well going to make sure Luke didn’t overthink himself into breaking it off.  He knew from April’s point of view what had gone down (more or less), and he definitely knew the pains of lacking closure in a relationship.

Still, he had seen Luke speaking with Lorelai in what appeared to be a sort of civil manner, so it was safe to assume that maybe they had worked it out and finished things.

Jess certainly hoped so, because he did, admittedly in a selfish way, want to spend his vacation with family.

Reminded briefly that Luke wasn’t his only family in town, he grabbed his phone and wallet, pocketing the latter and speed-dialing his mother.  He had a sister to visit.

XXXXX

Chris heard the phone ringing as he was unlocking his door, trying to juggle the bag of fast food in one hand and the bag of PC hardware he wanted to look at in the other.  He was tempted to call out, but realized it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good if he wasn’t actually picking up the phone.

His answering machine picked up just as he got the door open.

“Hello, Christopher,” his mother’s dulcet tones floated from the machine.  “I was hoping to arrange a time that was good for you to have dinner, but seeing as you are, as usual, unavailable despite it being a respectable time of day to make such appointments, I will simply assume that you will be able to rearrange your schedule to meet the need.”

Chris snorted and rolled his eyes, dropping the bag of computer hardware (mostly fried-out motherboards and old processor chips) near the door and taking the bag of fast food to his couch while his mother’s message continued.

“With Georgia finally in decent schooling, I will expect my other grandchild’s presence.  You and Rory are expected to dinner on…” It sounded like she was double-checking a planner, which, in Chris’s experience, was usually true.  If history was correct, then she wouldn’t have an exact date.  “Well, it’s soon, but not too soon I’d imagine.  My maid will call you with the details.  Have Rory presentable, yes?  Send my love to Georgia with good wishes to your children’s respective mothers.  Goodbye, Christopher.”

Chris sighed, the bag of food in front of him suddenly reminding him that he had money, which meant he should really be eating better than a handful of tacos and burritos.  He resolutely picked up the phone so he could at least give a heads-up to Rory, hoping desperately she would understand the familial obligation.  He winced when her phone went to voicemail after two rings.

“Hey, Rory…I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but something’s come up, and my mother….well, your grandmother, wants to have dinner with both of us.  I know the first and only time you saw her didn’t go over well.  I’d venture to say it went about as well as having drinks with repressed WASP’s can ever go, but I really need you there.  I missed the call, but her message says she expects you.  I’m really sorry, Rory; I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you right now, but I’m outright begging you to be at this dinner.  I’ll call you with the details, and I’ll call my mother if you can’t make it, but…” He sighed harshly, feeling much like something had caught in his throat and wouldn’t dislodge.  “She seemed to want you there.  So, that’s it.  I love you; goodnight, kiddo.”

Chris threw his phone to the corner of the sofa, staring resentfully at the bag of tacos and burritos he had planned on consuming.  He simply wasn’t hungry at this point, his mother’s voicemail having given him a distinct feeling of uneasiness.

Restlessly, he walked to the kitchen and poured a double-shot of scotch with no ice.  Something was definitely not sitting well with him, and while he had no idea why, it still made him want to drink more than eat.

XXXXX

“Well, this is a nice surprise, considering it usually takes a 21-gun salute and Green Day themselves to give it to get you to visit,” Lorelai said archly as she let Rory sweep by her, bags of laundry bouncing past.

“Well, I needed washing machines that don’t cost me $4.75 so I can do all of my clothes together without separating.  And there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” Rory retorted, heading directly for the washer and dryer in the back of the house.

Lorelai nodded, following Rory onto the back porch.  “Sounds serious.”

Rory shrugged, shoving her darks and jeans into the washer.  “It kind of is, I guess?” she replied in question.  “Dad called.”

Leaning against the doorjamb of the back entrance, Lorelai crossed her arms and bowed her head briefly.  “So, he did, did he?”

“Yeah…and apparently, I’m expected to be at dinner with him and my other grandma at a time to be determined.  Like my schedule is that easy to move around, like I have nothing _better_ to do.”

“Well, hon…did he demand you be there or anything?  You know how our families can be.  Freud could write a novel based on Emily Gilmore alone; you _know_ this.”

Rory sighed, crouched in the floor.  “I just hate that he begged me.”

“He _begged_ you?”

“Yeah, he begged me a little,” Rory admitted, deciding the back porch was as good a place as any to take a seat.  She was not disappointed when Lorelai sat with her.  “Well, no, he outright begged.  Look, here’s the voicemail.”

The message played out.

Lorelai sighed reluctantly.  “Kid, I gotta tell you…it sounds like he wants you to be there a little.”

Rory scowled, throwing detergent into the old washer.  “Well, maybe I don’t want to do _anything_ for him right now.”

“He _did_ pay for Yale.  And remember how you felt going to some of those Friday night dinners?  I know you didn’t want to certain times…”

The irritated look didn’t leave Rory’s face.  “Yeah, well…I think it’s bull that my presence is somehow being demanded, and that I’m somehow obligated to go because he said he’s never asked anything of me.”

Lorelai leaned against the back door, weighing her personal opinions with what she thought was better for either of them.  “I think you should go; I think he wants your support and your ability to buffer.  That’s it.  I think he has a tenuous relationship with his mother, and that it’s possibly close to how Christina felt with Joan.”

Rory rolled her eyes, letting her head fall against the vibrating washer.  “I _don’t_ want to do this; I really don’t.”

“I know, I do.  But it would help.  And I already told you that I’m moving on in my own way.”

Rory glared at her comically.  “Do I have to be polite?”

Lorelai leaned forward, joking giving a punch to Rory’s knee.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, hon.  Channel your grandma, yeah?”

Straightening up in understanding, Rory smirked.  “See, _that_ … _that_ , I can do.”

“I thought you might,” Lorelai responded, and watched the tension finally ease from Rory’s shoulders.

XXXXX

Chris waited impatiently as the barista made his coffee.  He took it in a hurry, throwing a five in the tip jar.  He was turning the corner in front of the shop to get to his car when he nearly ran Lorelai over.  His halt was abrupt enough that coffee splashed against the lid and dotted his hand.

“Lore?” Chris asked.  “Are we back to you stalking to me?”

Lorelai rolled her eyes.  “That was _one time_ , come on.  Jeez, I swear…you hang outside of your boyfriend’s window _once_.”

“Forgetting that you had a camera?”  He wiped his hand off on his jacket, looking at her in polite confusion.  “So, you just happened to be at the coffee shop I go to every morning?”

“So predictable; it’s like going to a Shyamalan movie.  You know it’s going to be terrible, and yet, we still go just for whatever horrible plot twist he thought was a good idea.”

“Lore, I’m kind of in a hurry honestly, so…?”

Lorelai nodded.  “Right, so.  Rory told me about your dinner invitation.”

Chris winced.  “I think I can get her out of it; my mom just seemed pretty hell-bent that Rory be there now that Gigi’s away.  Who knows, maybe she feels badly about how their first meet-and-greet went down.”

Lorelai crossed her arms.  “No, I think I convinced her to go through with it.  I was actually going to ask if maybe you wanted me there, too?  Just as a buffer?”

“Well, she didn’t mention your presence being required.  I mean, do you actually want to go to this thing?  I have no idea what it’s about, to be honest,” Chris answered honestly.  “She did say to send you her best wishes though.”

“I’m sure she does,” Lorelai retorted in a tone just shy of sarcastic.  “It’s just she hasn’t even seen Rory since she was what, sixteen?  Now, all of a sudden, her presence is asked—no, _demanded_ for dinner?  It just seems weird and out of the blue, and the timing is _awful_ ; you know you’re not her favorite person right now.”

“Yeah, I know she thinks I’m pretty much “undesirable No. 1”,” Chris agreed.  “Next thing you know, she’ll have the ministry after me.”

“Geek,” Lorelai teased with little humor.

“Yeah, but you knew it was from _Harry Potter_ ,” Chris pointed out.

Lorelai rolled her eyes.  “Okay, but back to this random invitation from the grandmother who thinks Rory is her son’s biggest mistake.”

“She doesn’t think that,” Chris interrupted haughtily.  “She does ask about Rory, about her life and career.  If I had to guess why she hasn’t reached out until now, I would say it has something to do with how their first meeting went, which is why I’m not sure it’s such a great idea for you to come along to this thing.  With Gigi off in Europe, maybe she wants to try and re-connect with Rory now that my dad’s gone.”

“I’m just trying to help, I swear,” Lorelai responded, stripping some of the defensiveness from her tone.  “Rory played your voicemail for me, and you sounded a little panicked.”

“Well, as you pointed out so eloquently, I’m not exactly on her “glad to know you” list right now.  And mom sounded a bit funny herself.  Like I said, I don’t know what’s going on, but she made it pretty clear in _how_ she said everything that she really wants to see Rory.”

“And Rory will be there, channeling all of her best Emily Gilmore material.  I’m just wondering why she wouldn’t have asked me along too if she wants to see Rory so bad.”

“Rory is an adult now, Lore; maybe she didn’t think you would want to see her again.”

“Alright, alright,” Lorelai conceded, staring at their shoes.  She lifted her head in curiosity.  “But you seriously don’t know what it’s about?”

“I have dinner with my mom pretty regularly.  It’s not quite your Friday night dinners, but I do see her frequently.  Like I said, it could just be that she wants to re-connect with Rory.  Dad’s gone, Gigi’s in Europe, and she might be feeling lonely without a grandchild to spoil.”

Lorelai nodded.  “Okay.  If anything goes wrong though, anything at all…”

“Rory will call you or she’ll Emily Gilmore her way out the front door,” Chris supplied.  “I think we’ll be fine.”  He sighed, wishing he had more time but knowing he didn’t.  “And Lore?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for convincing her to go.  It’ll mean a lot to my mom to see her.”

Lorelai smiled, and while it was clear she was still pushing through things, it was a real smile.  “Anytime, Chris.  I mean, you begged her; I can’t ignore the sound of a grown-ass man begging his daughter to attend a dinner when she’d rather eat dirt and he knows it.  It’s just sad.”

“Thanks for that too,” Chris grumbled good-naturedly.  He looked at his watch and gave her a reluctant look.  “I really do have to go.  As soon as I know what’s going on…”

“Rory will tell me,” Lorelai responded knowingly.

XXXXX

Jess imagined he was being pretty optimistic if he thought he wouldn’t run into Lorelai or Rory at any given point during his visit to Stars Hollow.  Although to be fair, he did think it would have been Lorelai.

Instead, he heard Rory ordering coffee.  When he looked up, it was to see she was definitely dressed for dinner, a warm-looking overcoat draped over her arm.  Lane poured a to-go cup per her request as they chatted and made small talk.

He stared at her for longer than he would care to admit, but declined to approach her to say anything.  She breezed back out of the diner, shouting a good-bye to Lane as she donned her coat.

Jess put the book down, shifting in his seat as he watched her turn the corner and disappear from view.  He never thought the day would come where he saw Rory and had very little desire to say anything to her.

It felt good.

XXXXX

The silence was overwhelmingly awkward.

Chris had tried to start small-talk, inquire about his mother, and she had ended that with a sharp look of warning and turned a scrutinizing gaze back to Rory.

“So…the last time we met, not so pleasant, huh?” Rory asked, trying to break the ice.

Francine straightened in her chair.  “They were poor circumstances, I believe.  You seemed to have turned out well enough, very independent.  I suspect you get that from your mother.”

“So, do I call you Grandma, or—“

“Grandmother Hayden will suffice,” Francine supplied, gesturing her empty drink toward Chris.  “My son tells me you write for a small paper nearby.”

Chris got up and went to freshen her drink, deciding immediately to tell Rory later that Gigi called his mother “Nanny Frannie”.  Even now, he was really starting to regret being glad that Lorelai had convinced Rory to come.

“Weatogue, yes,” Rory responded politely, but Chris could practically hear the temperature drop in her tone of voice.  “We mostly run AP articles, but I’ve been getting bylines and getting noticed.  I also have some freelance work through various online sources, mostly news articles on entertainment websites.”

Francine set her drink down.  “You haven’t thought to perhaps ask Logan or even Mitchum for something a little more prestigious?” she asked bluntly.

Rory nervously curled her fingers over her ear, pushing imaginary hair behind it.  “If I use my connections too often, how can I prove that my work is worth it?  I do very well for myself, after all.  I have savings, a trust fund I haven’t touched, and, despite my very supportive mother and grandmother offering to pay for whatever they can, I rarely use it.”

“So connections are a bad thing to you,” Francine responded archly, clearly undeterred by Rory’s confidence.  “Not something to be utilized unless absolutely necessary.”

Rory hitched her shoulder.  “I see them as useful, so long as they’re not used to the point of promoting a name over talent.  After all, should someone with the sheer skill and work ethic receive an opportunity over someone who simply has a connection or has word of mouth from someone with too much money?  After all, I’d hate to think that I don’t have the skill of the journalist I got a job over simply because a Huntzberger said I was the one to pick.”

“I’d imagine you got that from your mother as well,” Francine murmured as an aside.  “Any Hayden worth their salt knows when to use who they know.”

“Mother,” Chris interjected sharply, but Rory held up a hand.

“See, that’s the thing, _Grandmother Hayden_ ,” Rory said deliberately.  “I’m _not_ a Hayden; I’m a _Gilmore_ , and we _Gilmores_ work hard for what we have, damn our connections.”

Francine tilted her head in condescension.  “Such language from a young woman.  It’s no small wonder your engagement with the Huntzberger heir fell through.”

“That fell through because I wasn’t ready to be married,” Rory retorted hotly, arms crossed tightly on her chest.  “And just because society deems it somehow terrible to turn down such an _amazing_ proposal, that hardly has any bearing on my life or my lifestyle choices.”

“Ah, to have such freedom over one’s lifestyle choices,” Francine said airily, and rose to fix another drink.  “It sounds so youthful when the young do it, but let me impart some advice, Rory.”

Chris swallowed tightly.  If she were making her own drink, she was moving in for the kill.  He didn’t expect Rory to unexpectedly snap.

“Oh, please do.  I’m always up for advice from people who have met me once and designated me a mistake despite my life being worth considering,” Rory bit out.  “I’m always willing to be condescended to by someone who barely showed even the remotest interest in my life until precious _Gigi_ was gone, along with any chance to judge someone’s life when you don’t even _know_ them.”

Francine turned, stirring her drink and sipping daintily on the stir-stick.  “You know, Rory, you do have a point.  I _don’t_ know much about you; only what my son sees fit to tell me.  However, by your behavior tonight, it is exactly the sort of advice I was about to give you that you need to hear.”

“Mom,” Chris said in warning as he stood.  “If there’s something you need to say, then I’d ask you not to use Rory as an example of some crusade you’ve decided to go on.  She’s my daughter, not a poster-child for what you think to be poor lifestyle choices.”

“Oh, those lifestyle choices,” Francine laughed bitterly.  “And when was my only son going to tell me about his _own_ lifestyle choice?  Rory is a clear example of what happens when a child is not raised in a traditional family.  Her mother has made her too wild; thank heavens Sherrie was around to demand Georgia be raised properly in the setting she deserved.  How you got away with sending her to local prep schools until now is _beyond_ me, though I must say, your lawyers must have been very good.”

“Rory is just fine,” Chris answered in a stinging voice.  “And you’re over the line.  If there’s something you have to take up with me, then do so, but Rory is not going to remain for this.”

“No, Rory _is_ going to remain for this,” Rory replied.  “Because _Rory_ can speak for herself.”

“Oh, that wildness again,” Francine said in a lamenting sort of voice that made Chris’s skin crawl, and if Rory standing up and damn-near shaking with anger was any indication, it made hers tingle too.  “See, if you had been _present_ in her life, the way you and Sherrie were present in _Georgia’s_ …oh, maybe none of this would be necessary.  However, it’s done, and it’s happening, so there it is.”

“ _What_ , mom, _what_ is happening?” Chris asked, exhausted by this point from his mother’s attitude.

“ _Luke Danes_ , Christopher.  I spoke with a DAR friend, and she’s informed me about your little _tryst_.  Do you know what kind of embarrassment you’ve brought upon your poor father’s name, maybe he rest in peace.  To be gallivanting around like these _young folk_ these days, ones like Rory who think nothing of the repercussions of their actions on _others_.  Do you know how _embarrassed_ I am?”

“Rory, get your coat.  We’re leaving,” Chris said tightly.  “I’m sorry about this; I didn’t know.”

Rory sighed resolutely to herself, staring at her father for a long moment before nodding.  “Get it for me?  I’ll meet you outside.”

Chris studied her for a moment, seeing something glittering acidly in her eyes.  “Okay, kid.”  He left.

Rory turned on Chris’s mother and struggled to not simply slap the woman.  “You know, my grandmother once had to take up for me when my mother didn’t approve at _all_.”

Francine looked at her in boredom.  “Oh?  Was it that young blonde girl at your DAR fundraiser?  You two did seem awfully close, and it would explain your lack of marriage to a suitable young man.”

“I bet you genuinely think that.”  Rory swept closer to Francine, the older woman seeming a bit surprised by the sudden physical presence.  “Now, you listen, and I sincerely hope that you hear exactly what I’m about to say.  What my father does in his personal life is _hardly_ any of your business.  The worst thing to happen, according to your limited opinion, is the tarnishing of your precious reputation, especially when we both know that far more betrayal plays out behind the curtain than any of us _ever_ actually talk about; you know better than anyone—we only _gossip_ ,” Rory finished mockingly.  “You have _no idea_ what it’s done to others, but then again, you don’t care.”

“Young lady,” Francine started.

“Oh, I’m not done!  See, the only noise _I_ want to hear is _me talking_ ,” Rory ground out, silently thanking Francie from Chilton for that line because it wasn’t the first time she had been able to use it.  “And just _imagine_ how embarrassed you would be if I came to the next DAR function with _both_ my parents and _no_ Luke Danes so we can tell _everyone_ exactly how you treated a defenseless, sixteen-year-old girl who would later gain admission to Harvard _and_ Yale since, you know, Princeton wasn’t _good enough_ , and is slated for a job with the _Washington Post_ next year.”

Francine went slightly pale.

Rory was breathing hard at this point with nerves, mostly because she hadn’t actually _gotten_ the second _Washington Post_ interview yet, but so far, the first interview had gone well, and her editor in Weatogue had been optimistic (if a little sad about letting her go).

“So, what I suggest, _Grandmother Hayden_ , is that you start worrying about your _own_ precious reputation, especially seeing as my dad takes care of _you_ financially since _he’s_ the one with the money, and stop thinking about things that have absolutely _nothing_ to do with you.”

Francine had clearly lost some of whatever arrogance she had conducted the evening with, and seemed to be searching for something to say.  She struggled for a moment before finally finding her voice.

“As _entertaining_ as this evening as been—“ she started.

“And as much as I would agree with you and continue to make awkward small talk,” Rory said in a falsely cheerful voice that was still lined heavily with stress.  “I have to leave.  If you have anything you’d like to say further about my life _or_ my mother’s _or_ my father’s, then we can discuss it at the next DAR function.”  She looked thoughtful for a moment before driving her threat home.  “I’m sure my grandmother mentioned it, after all.  Oh, that’s right!  She’s doing a themed fundraiser, just like I did, revolving around Russian Winter.”  She forced herself to give a stiff hug to the older woman.  “Good night, Grandmother Hayden.  Let’s do this again sometime.”

Rory walked out of the house, and snatched her coat from Christopher.  “You okay?” she asked carefully, letting out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

Chris looked at her shaking frame.  “I will be.  What just went on in there?”

Rory glared up at him reluctantly.  “This doesn’t mean I _agree_ with what you did to Mom, okay?  But _no one_ deserves someone telling them who they can or can’t be with.  You owe me so big right now.”

Chris gently draped an arm around her shoulder.  “How does dinner sound then?”

She seemed to be in full tirade-mode, though she didn’t move away from her father.  “You know, it’s like she tried to _Hayden_ me tonight or something.  And you, for that matter.  But guess what; I _showed_ her how it’s done.  I _Gilmore’d_ her.”  She froze for a moment.  “Oh my _god_ , I _Gilmore’d_ somebody!”

“You sure did, honey.  Dinner?”

“Dinner, while I tell you _exactly_ what I said to _Grandmother Hayden_ ,” she muttered, adopting a whiny tone at the end and using her fingers for quote marks.

Chris chuckled weakly.  “I really didn’t know she was going to do this tonight, okay?  Gigi calls her Nanny Frannie.”

Rory grinned weakly.  “Maybe I’ll call her that the next time I see her to just to make her mad.”

“You are your mother’s child,” Chris said affectionately, something else easing in his chest as he walked Rory to her car.  “And I don’t think I’ve ever told you how glad I am for it.”

Rory lifted her head loftily.  “Now, now…I’m also Emily Gilmore’s granddaughter.”

“That you are, kiddo.  That you are.”

Even after dinner with Rory, the uneasy feeling of nausea hadn’t quite left his stomach and he couldn’t shake the tremble of his hand, though Rory was nice enough to not mention it.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Okay, so I really meant to have more Luke and Chris action in this chapter. I am so sorry, folks; I really am. This chapter kind of ran off with itself, and to be honest, I’m glad it did for once. I’ve really hated the way I keep getting stunted and stopped in the previous few chapters, and I’m glad I’m bringing other characters around to sort of balance the romance.
> 
> That being said, I really did mean for this chapter to end so, so, so very differently. Even my usual beta said I need to get my ass in gear with the slash aspect of it.
> 
> So, the next chapter is going to have the action. I was super wishy-washy on whether I actually wanted to write out the dinner with Francine, and then once I did…well, things kind of took over, and for, possibly, the first time ever, Rory actually took over the scene. I’m not going to lie, I’m sort of proud of lil Rory in that last scene; I really was.
> 
> Okay, off of my soapbox, aka: TL;DR: More *ahem* action in the chapter to come; pretty sure I know where it’s going (and how far). Many thanks to LSR and reviewers/commenters/followers/likers who have made this story continue to chug along.
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> If I missed anything in editing, any remaining mistakes are my own.


	17. You're Holding It In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk informs Chris of some of the laws of the township of Stars Hollow. Things heat up between Luke and Chris. Luke is late, but worries that Chris is starting to doubt everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: So, at least it wasn’t as long this time between updates. As usual, the chapter was giving me a bit of trouble, but I definitely got in what I wanted to get in (and man, do I wish that was a pun) and fleshed out a few aspects of Chris’s personality that I’ve always wanted to explore (and a little of Luke’s).
> 
> In any case, my sincerest apologies for the long time between updates. This chapter is shorter by about a page, and editing was on me for this one, since Legacy doesn’t particularly care to beta the *ahem* naughty bits, if you catch my drift. So any remaining mistakes are my own from the read-throughs I did on my own.
> 
> So, any remaining mistakes aside, hope you enjoy!

  1. You’re Holding It In



 

The familiar streets of Stars Hollow were wet with recent rain as Chris drove through them.  Most of the shops were closed, though the arcade, video store, and bar were still chugging along.  The rain was light, barely coming down hard enough to even qualify as precipitation.

Chris spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to determine whether it was rain, snow, or ice.  Most of that time was spent sitting just inside the limits of Stars Hollow, ignoring how his gut was churning over the dinner with his mother.  It was when he realized his knuckles were white against the stark black of the steering wheel that he put the car in drive again, following a route he knew too well.

Of course, the diner was closed.  And he spent yet another absurd number of minutes simply in his car outside of it, listening to music through headphones and debating if it was really that good an idea to even _sit_ outside of Luke’s for as long as he had.  The jittery nerves made his heart pound anxiously in his chest, the stiff rhythm only making the stomach upset worse.

The only thing that sprung him into action was a hard knock on his window.

Startled, Chris rolled the window down to find Kirk staring at him in an unsettling way.  “Yes?”

Kirk stared him down levelly, hands crossed behind his back.  “We don’t allow “parking”, otherwise known as loitering, within the limits of Stars Hollow.  I would really hate to have to call the so-called _law_ on you, Christopher.  I always found you rather easy to get along with.  However, I will have to ask you to move along if you’re not intending on visiting someone here.”

Chris scoffed quietly to himself.  “I’m just sitting here, you know.  I’m planning on visiting someone soon.”

“Well, you were spotted sitting quite close to the Stars Hollow town limits earlier, and you’ve been reported—“

“ _Reported_ , seriously?” Chris stumbled out.  “I was sitting in my _car_ , which—“

Kirk held up a hand.  “As I understand it, you’re going to argue that your car is your property, which yes, it is within your right to dawdle as long as you wish.  However, the Township of Stars Hollow strictly prohibits acts such as “parking” within its limits.  Again, you do seem like a nice guy, so I’m letting you off with a warning before the “po-po” is called in.  If you’re visiting, then it’s fine.  If you’re simply finding our city nice to look at, it’s fine.  But if you’re just looking for a place to park your car, a place to sleep—“

“Kirk, it’s fine.  I’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” Chris snapped.  “I’m just—“

Kirk cut him off again.  “I’ll have to ask you to leave the city limits if you’re going to continue to park your car on the sides of the road.”  He looked uneasy for a moment before he leaned forward uncomfortably close to Chris’s face with an earnest gaze.  “You have to understand, I’m only doing this because Taylor mentioned—“

“Oh, well, since _Taylor_ mentioned,” Chris responded sarcastically.

Kirk waved his hand nervously.  “Taylor only wanted that the township laws are abided by.”  He frowned for a moment.  “Followed by?  Allowed?  Acknowledged?  Yes, that’s it.  Acknowledged.”

Chris nodded warily.  “Well, fine.  Tell Taylor that I acknowledge that there’s township _laws_ ; I get it.  You won’t find me around the corner selling crack to the crazy high school kids.”

Kirk jumped as if someone had stabbed him.  “Not so _loud_ , Christopher!”  He looked around in paranoia.  “Taylor has _ears_ , and they’re _everywhere_.”

Chris sighed.  “Look, I get it, Kirk.  I need to complete my business here or move along.  Is that the gist?”

Kirk nodded uncertainly.  “Well…yes.”

“Then rest assured, I will move along or do what I need to,” Chris said, laying on the charm as heavy as he could.

“Well…fine then.  I’ll relay the information to the proper authorities,” Kirk agreed, and awkwardly rapped his knuckles on the hood of Chris’s car.  “Good evening!” he finished jovially.

Chris sighed, staring first at the steering wheel and then the closed sign of Luke’s door.  His mother’s words still scraped at the base of his skull in a raw sort of headache that made his skin feel like it wanted to slough off.  He shrugged in the seat, rolling his shoulders and letting his head bang against the headrest.

With the dinner confrontation still echoing hollowly in his mind, he realized it was sleet falling on his windshield as the ice gathered behind his wipers.  Kirk’s speech about “loitering” was also sticking out in his mind, and it made him feel all the more awkward.

His phone vibrated briefly in his pocket.

_You gonna stay down there all night…theres a key taped on the left side of the door._

Chris grinned briefly at his phone before he made his decision.  Still shaking (though he didn’t know whether it came from the dinner with his mother or anticipation of seeing Luke), he parked his car behind Casey’s as the last patrons were leaving.  He briefly conversed with the bartender that night to make sure his car wouldn’t be towed.

After, he found the key taped to the side of the door.  He made his way through the dark restaurant, carefully avoiding the upturned chairs on tables and thinking that his shoes sounded loud on the freshly mopped floor.  His stomach was still turning knots and his mind kept the circles going until he had reached the upstairs apartment door.  He gave four brief taps with his knuckles against the glass that read “Williams Hardware”, wishing he could tell that there the nerves running wild through his blood were solely due to seeing Luke instead of being mixed with the disaster that had been dinner with his mother.

Luke answered fairly quickly, looking somewhat pleased to see him.  “I didn’t expect you tonight, but I saw you parked outside, and then Kirk came up, and no conversation with Kirk _ever_ ends well, so I thought I’d at least make the decision easier for you.”

Chris nodded, hoping that the aftermath of the dinner with his mother wasn’t showing.  “I know it’s late; I wasn’t sure if you’d still be up.”

“I’m not usually, but I got a phone call from April that went on longer than it normally does, and I couldn’t get to sleep right away.  I was getting a glass of water when I saw you and Kirk talking.”  Luke opened the door wider.  “Coming or going?”

“Coming,” Chris muttered, already feeling as if he wouldn’t be able to expel the poor mood he was in owing to his mother.  “You still have that rum sitting around?”

Luke shrugged, as if finally realizing that there something in Chris’s body language that was…off.  “Yeah, I do.  No gaming consoles, but I’ve got a TV and a DVD player.”

“You said you weren’t much of a movie person.”  Chris wondered absently what Luke’s music collection was like, or if he even had one.  His thinking was stopped by Luke’s hands abruptly grabbing his shoulders and stopping his pacing, something he hadn’t even realized he was doing until Luke had intervened.  “What?”

“Chris,” Luke responded, looking so damn understanding that Chris wanted to kiss it out of him, “What’s going on?”

“Can I just table that for now?”

“You were having dinner with your mother and Rory tonight, weren’t you?” Luke pressed onward.  “You didn’t say as much, but I kind of got it from some your texts.”

Chris scrubbed his hands over his face, sitting heavily on the couch.  “Yeah, I had dinner with my mother and Rory tonight.”

Luke sat beside of him stiffly, as if preparing to be cast aside.  “I take it that it didn’t go well?”

Chris snorted softly.  “What gives you that idea?”  He glanced at the table and then back to Luke.  “Weren’t you getting that rum?”

“Look, man…I was with Lorelai long enough to know to recognize what a bad dinner looks like.  What happened?”

Clenching his fists on his knees, Chris stared steadfastly at the coffee table.  “If you were with her that long, than you should know that I don’t want to talk about this.”

“And I was with her long enough to know when to force it out.  I don’t want this to bite us in the ass later; what the fuck happened?” Luke snapped.

Chris shot to his feet, the enormity of his evening finally crashing in a wave.  “ _Everything_ happened,” he bit out angrily.  “My mother _knows_ about us.  She confronted me at dinner tonight in front of my kid, who doesn’t even want to really _talk_ to me right now.  Sure, she came to dinner tonight, but only because Lore talked her into it.  And then, I’m sure, stood up to my mom when even _I_ can’t.  I’m tired of being an outcast, whether it’s my own family or this stupid town, but I put up with it, because I was with Lorelai, and I know this town is _everything_ to you, and I don’t know how to assimilate to that, because the last time I tried, we got a shit welcome-wagon at the stupid knit-a-thon, where, when I tried to help, I got shunned instead.  Seriously, this town was _fine_ with me until I was with _her_ , and now I’ve got my _mother_ breathing down my neck, and—“

Luke grabbed him again, shoving him none-too-ceremoniously on the couch before climbing over to straddle Chris.  “Stop,” he said quietly.

Chris made a strangled sound from the back of throat.  “I _can’t_ ; don’t you _get_ it, I—“

“ _Stop_ ,” Luke said again, more firmly this time, ignoring the way his knees ached as he settled deeper onto Chris’s lap.  “Lorelai and Rory are okay, right?”

“Well, yeah, I think, but—“

Luke shook his head sharply to shut him up.  “And Gigi is fine?  You haven’t heard anything to suggest otherwise?”

Chris could practically feel the obligation rise up before he responded.  “Geege is fine; I talked to her a couple of days ago to make sure she got in okay.  April’s fine too?”

Luke nodded, almost patiently, even if there was a certain amount of desperation behind it.  “April’s fine.  She’s staying with Anna and as far as I can tell, they’re trying to settle on where she’s going to college.”  He moved closer, becoming a warm, solid weight against Chris’s body.  “I’m asking about _you_ though.  Lorelai never could tell me anything about her other life, not directly.  Even in the end, I found out through someone else.”

Chris sighed deeply, feeling annoyed and hurt.  He settled his hands on Luke’s hips all the same, his thumbs rubbing under the flannel and undershirt Luke wore.  “I’m fine,” he finally said feebly.

Luke snorted and rolled his eyes.  “No, you’re not.”

“What do you care?” Chris spat out, his fingers digging in viciously on Luke’s hips.  The wince on Luke’s face hit him like a ton of bricks though, and he jerked his hands back as if he had been burned.  He slammed his head against the edge of Luke’s couch, breathing shallowly and feeling as if he just wanted to forget the entire evening.  “Seriously, though…what do you _care_?”

He didn’t expect the large hand wrapping around the back of his neck or the feel of lips on the skin of his collar.  It made him flinch slightly, but Luke didn’t seem deterred, continuing a path across Chris’s neck.

Chris settled his hands back on Luke’s hips, arching his neck and slipping his fingers against the skin along the waist of Luke’s jeans.  He pulled forward, his own hips jerking up to meet Luke’s, and felt enormously satisfied when Luke’s groan reverberated heavily against his collarbone.  There was an answering hardness in Luke’s jeans rubbing against his own cock, and his fingers twitched hard over the skin.

“I _care_ because I care about _you_ ,” Luke said gruffly against a spot behind Chris’s ear that, quite frankly, Chris had never paid attention to before, but now, seemed like it was the most important patch of skin in the fucking _world_.  “I care because you _don’t_ ; I care because you think you need to hold it in around me, and I can’t do that again.”

Chris traced his hands up Luke’s torso, carefully fluttering his fingers over Luke’s nipples.  “I care about you more,” he admitted.  He pulled his hands from under Luke’s shirt briefly, but only to start unbuttoning the flannel shirt.  “I think you’d be a lot more comfortable with this off.”

Luke stared at him for a moment before pulling away.  “Look, I do want this; I do.”

Chris tightened his grip on Luke’s hips, thrusting up again and beginning to move a hand toward the tight erection in Luke’s jeans.  “Then what’s stopping you?  I want it too.”

With a sigh, Luke finally unwound his fingers from the back of Chris’s neck so he could wrap them around Chris’s hand.  “You’re only doing this now because you’re upset or mad or whatever; I don’t really know, but I _do_ know you’re only doing this because of what happened tonight.”

With a scowl, Chris glared at Luke’s hand wound about his wrist.  “She _knows_ ,” he said helplessly, as if that explained everything.  “My mother _knows_.”

Luke snorted before getting up to peruse his sparse DVD collection.  “So I’m going to put on the third season of “Scrubs”, because April insisted on having this show available since I don’t really see the need to pay for not only my cable subscription—which I only got because of Jess—but also Netflix and Hulu.  If you have any objections, than feel free to suggest something else.”

Chris immediately missed the solid bulk that had been sitting against him, his hands twitching restlessly on his thighs while Luke talked.  “I can just log into my account from here, you know.”

Luke shook his head, lifting Chris’s legs unceremoniously so he could sit, and letting them rest on his knees as he handled the remote.  “Yeah, this is better.  I can only go so fast.”

“I like this show,” Chris said idly, crossing his arms over his chest as he hunkered down further into the couch cushions.  “It’s funny.”

“You know, I didn’t think I’d like it; I hate hospitals.  I only go to one when I absolutely have to,” Luke responded, his hand resting first on a knee before working up Chris’s stomach to snag a hand.  “But I liked this.”

Chris squeezed his hand.  “That’s because it’s funny.”  He stretched his legs out, feeling a hand settle onto his ankle.  “I wish you’d brought that rum out.”

Luke scoffed, enforcing his grip on Chris’s ankle and hand.  “You don’t need that shit,” he said bluntly.  “You had a crap night with your mother.  You need something else.”

“Yeah,” Chris replied, moving his fingers lower to trace patterns over Luke’s wrist.  “I guess I do.”

Luke only grinned and settled further into his seat, drawing meal orders from the day onto the skin of Chris’s ankle.

XXXXX

Groggy and disoriented, Chris woke slowly.  Sunlight barely streamed through the windows, both weak and in threat of the impending day.  He stretched his legs first, since one of his arms was curled around Luke’s neck and collarbone, the other draped over Luke’s hips.  He yawned, turning his face into the pillow before glancing over Luke’s shoulder to look at the clock.

He barely had time to register the lower half of a tattoo before he realized the time—7:42AM.

“Luke,” Chris whispered hurriedly, carefully running a hand over Luke’s shoulder.  “Luke, you’re late.”

Luke groaned beside of him, reluctantly moving around beneath the blankets before hitching backwards into Chris’s warmth.  “God, would you shut up?  I set the alarm; jeez.”

“Yeah, your alarm didn’t go _off_ ; wake _up_ ,” Chris said a bit more urgently.  “It’s a quarter to 8.”

Luke rolled his eyes as he turned around and planted a firm kiss along Chris’s neck, letting a hand drift over Chris’s narrow hip as he sat up a bit more.  “No, it’s not.  I set my alarm for six; I open late on weekends.”

“So you open in—“ Chris checked the clock again; 7:44AM—“42 minutes ago?”

Luke snorted irritably, wrapping an arm around Chris’s waist.  “42 minutes ago?” he asked tiredly.

Chris sighed in exasperation, snagging the corded alarm clock from Luke’s nightstand so he could all but shove it in Luke’s face.  “ _7:45AM_ ,” he said deliberately.  “You’re _late_.”

Luke finally seemed to read what was right in front of him.  “ _Fuck_ ,” he swore sharply, jumping sharply from bed, revealing that he only wore boxers.  He started rummaging quickly through his dresser, pulling out pants, tee-shirt, and flannel, throwing each item on the bed as he found them.  “Why didn’t my damn alarm go off?” he shot out, pure impatience rolling off of him.

Chris picked up Luke’s alarm and phone before falling back to the warmth of the bed as Luke dressed quickly.  “Possibly because you set one for PM and the other you set at 8 for some reason.”

Luke grunted as he tried to put on a shoe while standing on the opposite socked foot.  He hopped like a fish out of water for a moment before repeating the action with his other foot.  “I was pretty tired when we finally got to sleep.”  He pulled his baseball cap over his hair, sliding his hands along the brim of the hat before leaning in to smudge a haphazard kiss over Chris’s lips.  “I gotta go.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Chris said.  “I’ve got work to do too; I’ll show myself out.”

Luke snagged a hand behind Chris’s neck in a motion that was becoming all too familiar, dropping a heavier (if messy) kiss onto Chris’s mouth.  “Don’t worry or give a shit about what people see or think, yeah?”

Chris nodded tightly.  “Yeah, I won’t,” he said in a voice that cracked on his throat.

“You promise?” Luke asked, and when Chris didn’t respond right away, he leaned forward again and kissed Chris’s forehead hard.  “At least call me later, okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you,” Chris said, though it sounded tired.

Luke tightened his grip on the nape of Chris’s neck.  “I mean it; call me, text me, whatever.”

Chris nodded.  “I’ll call you.  Get down there; you’ve got a business to open.”

With a fleeting smile, Luke pressed his forehead against Chris’s again before sprinting out of the room.

Thinking over Luke’s words and the actions of the previous night, Chris didn’t get up right away.  He slouched back down into the bed, pulling Luke’s pillow closer to him as a bolster before he promptly fell asleep again.  He could get to work later.

XXXXX

Luke sprinted upstairs to put the deposit bag of money into the safe.  The morning had been crazy, what with him being late and (what seemed like) half of Stars Hollow outside of his diner for breakfast by the time he was ready to open.  While Cesar had a key to the diner, Luke had made it very clear that unless he was found murdered on the front steps of the building, Cesar wasn’t to open alone unless Luke had discussed it first.

Lane had only tossed him a considering glance; Cesar had muttered about wanting a raise if he was going to be dealing with the townsfolk about the diner still being closed when there wasn’t an obvious reason.

What Luke didn’t realize right away was that the majority of the denizens of Stars Hollow were only there because Kirk couldn’t help himself, and had told Taylor that Chris had entered Luke’s Diner at an hour that was considered far too late for business.

Luke had ignored most of the whispered gossiping; he was accustomed to it.  He spun the dial on the safe, shoving the bag in quickly and then counting out the change he needed (jeez, did _no one_ use nickels anymore?), making a quick penned note of cash-in, cash-out so he could balance his sales at the end of the day.  He was still writing it when he nearly jumped three feet because a set of fingers drifted across his neck, beneath the brim of his cap.

Chris looked startled.  “So, I was just getting ready to leave…”

Luke adjusted his cap.  “You scared me; sorry.  I was writing down my change-outs between my safe and my register.”  He felt uncomfortable at the way Chris looked skittish, as if the way he had jumped meant that Chris thought Luke didn’t want him there.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Chris said, shoving his hands into his pockets awkwardly.

Luke sighed, finished penciling his note in, closed the safe, and stood up.  “It’s fine.  I don’t normally wake up late, and I don’t normally set my alarms wrong.  You can stay all day if you want, but I’ve gotta warn you; I am very much lacking in entertainment around here.”

Chris chuckled weakly.  “I’ve got work to do, and my laptop’s at my apartment.  I can do some of it with my phone, but there’s a few things I’ve got to pay attention to right now.”

Luke snatched Chris’s hip, pulling him toward him.  “Then do some of it with your phone.  Stay.”

The last smirk that Chris sent cinched it.  “I can’t stay; I’ve got to go.”

“Bullshit,” Luke muttered.  “You’re still holding it in.  Why can’t you just talk to me?  I thought we were doing pretty good with that part.”

Chris looked reluctant.  “Can I just say that I don’t want to talk about it right now?  You don’t know my mother, my family, what I’m dealing with right now with Rory and Gigi, you don’t know _any_ of that.  I just need some time.”

Luke looked at him levelly.  “If I didn’t make this clear, I do want this.  I’ve never done any of the…well, guy-on-guy stuff, but I’m pretty sure I can figure it out, or we can figure it out, you know?”  He sighed, feeling like he was drawing the sound up from his toes.  “I _want_ to figure it out.  Stay?”

“Luke!  We need you down here!” Cesar’s voice rang up.

“I really _can’t_ stay; it’s a work thing,,” Chris responded apologetically, though Luke wasn’t sure he believed it.  “I will call you though, okay?”

Luke huffed irritably.  “Promise?  Remember, this isn’t my first go-round with someone’s hoity-toity family.  I’ll be there.”

Chris nodded.  “I promise.”

Luke kissed him again, tightening his hand over Chris’s hip and swiping a tongue over his lip.  “Just don’t shut me out, okay?  Don’t ever do that.”

“I won’t shut you out.  I just can’t guarantee that I won’t be drunk when I decide to drop everything on you; they kind of breed that into the kids I grew up with.”

“Drunk, sober, whatever; keep me in the loop.  Talk to me, okay?”

“I will.”  Chris looked at his phone and turned a regretful stare to Luke.  “If I don’t leave now, I’m going to be late for my own meeting.”

Luke felt his chest constrict at the business-like way Chris was collecting his coat and scarf, at the way he was scanning the apartment for any other items he might have left behind.  Luke didn’t want to seem desperate though, and didn’t press again that he wanted Chris to call or text if anything else came up.

Chris paused at the doorway, throwing his coat and scarf on.  After, his hands fidgeted.

Luke stilled them with his own, twining their fingers together.  “I’m into this.  Do you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” Chris responded in a way that Luke didn’t really believe, but appreciated the way Chris tightened his fingers around Luke’s.  “I have my days, you know.”

Luke nodded, not sure if he wanted to reveal how much he could relate.  “Yeah.  I do.”

Chris kissed him quickly as he wound his scarf.  “I’ll call you?”

Something loosened in Luke’s chest, if only because he finally believed him.  “Yeah.  I look forward to it.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: Stubborn-ass boys -_- This is what I get for writing a rare!pair as a slow burn. They want to, but they won’t.
> 
> I know this chapter was a bit shorter (by a page or so), but I needed (as an OCD author) to have things happen a certain way, progress a particular way, and end a certain way. Frankly, I’m pretty happy with how things went; I wanted more physical stuff, which I got, but it also set up the next chapter.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, kinda terrified after posting a fic in the Once Upon a Time fandom and got death threats.


End file.
